My Anna! when for thee my head was bowed, The circle of the world, sky, mountain, main, Drew inward to one spot: and now again Wide Nature narrows to the shell and shroud. In the late dawn they will not be forgot, And evenings early-dark, when the low rain Begins at nightfall, though no tempests rave, I know the rain is falling on her grave. The morning views it, and the sunset cloud Points with a finger to that lonely spot: The crops that up the valley rolling go Ever towards her slumber bow and blow. I look on the sweeping corn and the surging rye, And with every gust of wind my heart goes by. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GOOD-BYE DOROTHY GAYLE: OVER THE MACKINAC by KAREN SWENSON 1914: 1. PEACE by RUPERT BROOKE MEMORIAL DAY by WILLIAM E. BROOKS TO LUCY, COUNTESS OF BEDFORD, WITH MR. DONNE'S SATIRES by BEN JONSON IN REMEMBRANCE by ADRA CAROLINE BATCHELDER THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 101. AGE: 2 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |