That belt of pines is dearer to his heart, Than all the busy interests of life; Since, on that festal morn, he saw the dart Of heaven descending on his plighted wife. No axe comes there; the trees extend their shade; His loving sorrow interdicts their fall, And warns the woodman from the holy glade; The death of Agnes has redeem'd them all! Yon small white gate, deep-set in living green, Through which she pass'd, - alas! without return, - Though distant, oft in sunny gleams is seen; Or when, before the rain, the sacred grove Comes looming up, surcharg'd with death and love, And bids the little gate stand forth and mourn! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE AEOLIAN HARP by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE VALENTINES TO MY MOTHER: 1883 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI SENTINEL SONGS: 1 by ABRAM JOSEPH RYAN THE DOLLS by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS SONNET: LEAVES by WILLIAM BARNES BELLS by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |