Of funerals, the saddest Is love's that dies unanswered. The soul has two to bury: The soul of the beloved And its own other selfhood. And a third enters, living, The funeral flame that wraps them; His wings a yoke has weighted: Him the wise lips of lovers Call in their kisses, Eros, And gods: the Resurrector. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OF THE WARS IN IRELAND by JOHN HARRINGTON TO THE PLIOCENE SKULL by FRANCIS BRET HARTE TO R. B. by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 31 by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN THE TRIUMPH OF LIFE by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY WHEN I READ THE BOOK by WALT WHITMAN THE BROKEN WATER WHEEL by GHALIB IBN RIBAH AL-HAJJAM A SONG FOR THE SINGLE TABLE ON NEW YEAR'S DAY by ELIZABETH FRANCES AMHERST |