Nor idle all, though naught he sees in thine But dallying with the day to make it brief And thinks it braver far to tramp the leaf With dog and gun, through tamerac, birch, and pine Or lounge the day beneath a tavern sign: Yet in his labor can I well discern Great workings moving, both in his and mine. What though indeed a joyless verse I turn, The flowers are fair, and give their glistening heaps To grace her grave: and so tonight I pass To that low mound gone over now with grass And find her stirless still, whilst overhead Creation moveth, and the farmboy sleeps, A still stong sleep till but the east is red. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NIGHTINGALES by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES DAY: MORNING by JOHN CUNNINGHAM EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 8. BE QUICK AND SURE by PHILIP AYRES LETHE. A BALLAD by JAMES HAY BEATTIE THE SILVER BIRD OF HERNDYKE MILL by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |