WITHER'D pansies faint and sweet, O'er his breast in silence shed, Faded lilies o'er his feet, Waning roses round his head, Where in dreamless sleep he lies -- Folded palms and sealed eyes -- Young Love, within my bosom -- dead. Young Love that was so fond, so fair, With his mouth of rosy red, Argent wing and golden hair, And those blue eyen, glory-fed From some fount of splendor, far Beyond or moon or sun or star -- And can it be that he is dead? Ay! his breast is cold as snow: Pulse and breath forever fled; If I kiss'd him ever so, To my kiss he were as lead; If I clipp'd him as of yore He would answer me no more With lip or hand -- for he is dead. But breathe no futile sigh; no tear Smirch his pure and lonely bed. Let no foolish cippus rear Its weight above him. Only spread Rose, lily, pale forget-me-not, And pansies round the silent spot Where in his youth he lieth -- dead. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNET: 78 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE TO JANE: KEEN STARS by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 37. NAPOLEON AT ST. HELENA by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) COMPANIONSHIP AT NIGHT by AGNES STEWART BECK WHOM EARTH HAS TAUGHT: RENEWALS by MARGARET PERKINS BRIGGS THE VOICE OF THE CHRIST-CHILD by PHILLIPS BROOKS |