HERS all that Earth could promise or bestow, — Youth, Beauty, Love, a crown, the beckoning years, Lids never wet, unless with joyous tears, A life remote from every sordid woe, And by nation's swelled to lordlier flow. What lurking-place, thought we, for doubts or fears, When, the day's swan, she swam along the cheers Of the Alcalá, five happy months ago? The guns were shouting Io Hymen then That, on her birthday, now denounce her doom; The same white steeds that tossed their scorn of men To-day as proudly drag her to the tomb. Grim jest of fate! Yet who dare call it blind, Knowing what life is, what our humankind? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BUCOLIC COMEDY: THE DOLL by EDITH SITWELL ANOTHER SONG WITHOUT WORDS by PAUL VERLAINE INVOCATION [TO LOVE] by WILLIAM DRUMMOND OF HAWTHORNDEN A LITTLE SONG OF LIFE by LIZETTE WOODWORTH REESE THE FIELD MOUSE by WILLIAM SHARP MONOTONOUS VARIETY by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS LILIES: 16. MY GIFT by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) FRAGMENTS INTENDED FOR DEATH'S JEST-BOOK: DAY OF SURPASSING BEAUTY by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES |