SHE only died last week and yet Suns might have risen, suns have set A thousand: May's here like a bride, And it was May when Mary died. Incredible! We might last week Have kissed her, praised her, heard her speak, Who now has travelled far, so far Beyond the moon and the day-star. Since she has gone all Time and Space Have lost their meanings: Mary's face Grows dim in distance; like a light Far down a distance infinite. Last week! Why, this new grief we have Is old as Time, old as the grave; It was and will be; darkness spread Over the world since Mary's dead. Last week she died. The lilac-bough Her eyes watched bud is blooming now; The chestnut's lit her lamp since then; And the lost cuckoo's come again. A week ago! O endless space, Since Mary heavenward turned her face! And still the lilac's on the spray That budded when she went away. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE PITY OF IT by THOMAS HARDY TO A GARDEN IN APRIL by WALTER CONRAD ARENSBERG NARCISSUS by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES THE JEWISH PILGRIM by FRANCES BROWNE EVEN THE BATS by WITTER BYNNER A FRIENDLY EXPOSTULATION, CONCERNING THE REDEMPTION OF MANKIND by JOHN BYROM ON BEING ASKED WHAT WAS THE 'ORIGIN OF LOVE' by GEORGE GORDON BYRON |