Her face was like an opening rose, So bright to look upon; But now it is like fallen snows, As cold, as dead, as wan. Heaven lit with stars is more like her Than is this empty crust; Deaf, dumb and blind it cannot stir But crumbles back to dust. No flower be taken from her bed For me, no lock be shorn; I give her up, the early dead, The dead, the newly born: If I remember her, no need Of formal tokens set; Of hollow token lies, indeed, No need, if I forget. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ETUDES DE PLUSIERS PAYSAGES DE L' AME: 1 by HAYDEN CARRUTH DIVIDE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE SONG MAKER by SARA TEASDALE SONG OF MARION'S MEN by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT WITH FLOWERS by EMILY DICKINSON WINTRY WEATHER by DAVID GRAY (1838-1861) EPITAPHS OF THE WAR, 1914-18: CONVOY ESCORT by RUDYARD KIPLING |