I ask'd of little Nora, but he drew A piteous sigh - his answer did not come; My friend stood gazing on his daughter's tomb, Till, with a sudden shame, I saw it too; At last he said: 'She died three moons ago': So long entomb'd had little Nora been, So long I knew not of her father's woe! Then came her portrait forth, which I had seen, And he had shown with pride, when last we met; The same bright smile - the rose-o'erladen arms, And all her pretty sum of infant-charms; But lo! a fair memorial tress was set, Facing the porcelain picture, where his child Still nursed her pile of summer-wreaths and smiled. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FACADE: 7. MADAME MOUSE TROTS by EDITH SITWELL SECOND BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 18 by THOMAS CAMPION BUNCHES OF GRAPES by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE PALINGENESIS by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW MODERN LOVE: 34 by GEORGE MEREDITH THE EMPEROR OF ICE-CREAM by WALLACE STEVENS |