"The grave-worm revels now" Upon the pure white brow, And on the eyes so dead and dim, And on each putrifying limb, And on the neck 'neath the long hair; Now from the rosy lips He damp corruption sips, Banquetting everywhere. Creeping up and down through the silken tresses That once were smoothed by her husband's caresses, In her mouth, and on her breast Where the babe might never rest In giving birth to whom she lost her life; She gave all and she gave in vain, Nor saw the purchase of her pain, Poor mother and poor wife. Was she too young to die? Nay, young in sorrow and in years, Her heart was old in faith and love; Her eyes were ever fixed above, They were not dimmed by tears. And as the time went swiftly by She was even as a stately palm Beside still waters, where a dove Broodeth in perfect calm. Yea, she was as a gentle breeze To which a thousand tones are given; To tell of freshness to the trees, Of roses to the honey-bees, Of Summer to the distant seas, And unto all of Heaven. They rest together in one grave, The mother and her infant child, The holy and the undefiled: Let none weep that ye could not save So much of beauty from the earth; It is not death ye see, though they Pass into foulness and decay; It is the second birth. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE DEATH OF THE HIRED MAN by ROBERT FROST RECESSIONAL (1) by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON ANOTHER SPRING by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 1ST SERIES: 1 by EDWARD TAYLOR HE GIVES HIS BELOVED CERTAIN RHYMES by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS ODES: BOOK 1: ODE 7. ON THE USE OF POETRY by MARK AKENSIDE PATTY MORGAN THE MILKMAID'S STORY: 'LOOK AT THE CLOCK!' by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM |