It is not on her gown She fears to tread; But on her hair That tumbles down And strays About her ways. And she lives nigh this place! The dead would rise Only to see her face! The dead would rise To hear her sing! We would leave behind Both wife and child, And house and home; And wander blind, And wander thus, And ever roam, If she would come to us In Erris. Softly she said to me -- Be patient till the night comes, And I will go with thee. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PASSION AND LOVE by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR SONG OF SUMMER by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR A SECOND REVIEW OF THE GRAND ARMY [MAY 24, 1865] by FRANCIS BRET HARTE TO AGE by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR THE PROFESSION OF FLATTERY by ANTIPHANES |