I DIGGED thy grave in my memory Years ago,oh! years ago! And for oblivion over thee The poppies grow, the poppies grow. But still, when Hesperus is high, Pansies for thoughts I drop thereby, And let them lie, and let them lie, Since from thy bitter I drew sweet. Yet are the pansies at thy feet, The pansies pale thy head above Not sown of Love, not sown of Love. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WHITE RABBIT by KAREN SWENSON THE RESOLVE by MARY LEE CHUDLEIGH TO THE SOUR READER by ROBERT HERRICK BROTHER JONATHAN'S LAMENT FOR SISTER CAROLINE [DECEMBER 2O, 1860] by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES THE GIRL OF ALL PERIODS; AN IDYLL by COVENTRY KERSEY DIGHTON PATMORE THE NINE LITTLE GOBLINS by JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 1 by ALFRED TENNYSON |