THEY die -- the dead return not. Misery Sits near an open grave and calls them over, A Youth with hoary hair and haggard eye. They are the names of kindred, friend and lover, Which he so feebly calls; they all are gone -- Fond wretch, all dead! those vacant names alone, This most familiar scene, my pain, These tombs, -- alone remain. Misery, my sweetest friend, oh, weep no more! Thou wilt not be consoled -- I wonder not! For I have seen thee from thy dwelling's door Watch the calm sunset with them, and this spot Was even as bright and calm, but transitory, -- And now thy hopes are gone, thy hair is hoary; This most familiar scene, my pain, These tombs, -- alone remain. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MY MOTHER LEFT ME by KAREN SWENSON REPORT OF AN ADJUDGED CASE, NOT TO BE FOUND IN ANY BOOKS by WILLIAM COWPER INSPIRATION by SAMUEL JOHNSON (1822-1882) MACGREGOR'S GATHERING by WALTER SCOTT SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 31. A QUESTION by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) |