THE sighing trees -- they all stood round -- Their friendly arms about me cast; The brook with mingled shadow-sound Of laughter and of sobbing passed; The bank whereon I lay was spread With small soft mosses, thick and deep; The faint breeze stooped above my bed ... These spake with one accord, and said: "Our Little Sister, -- let her weep, -- Hush, let her weep!" Their voices all afar withdrew What time the tears ran free and fain ... Those tears the mosses drank as dew, Those tears the brook received as rain; For tears the trees their balsam shed, Then took my heart, my grief, to keep, And gave their griefless calm instead. And once again all spake, and said: "Our Little Sister, -- let her sleep, -- Hush, let her sleep!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WILLING MISTRESS by APHRA BEHN ARS VICTRIX (IMITATED FROM THEOPHILE GAUTIER) by HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON ODE ON A DISTANT PROSPECT OF ETON COLLEGE by THOMAS GRAY A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 48 by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN INDIAN SUMMER (2) by JOHN BANISTER TABB CHANNING by AMOS BRONSON ALCOTT AN INVENTORY OF THE FURNITURE IN DR. PRIESTLEY'S STUDY by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD RAISING THE DEVIL; A LEGEND OF CORNELIUS AGRIPPA by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM |