THAT strain again? It seems to tell Of something like a joy departed; I love its mourning accents well, Like voice of one, ah! broken-hearted. That note that pensive dies away, And can each answering thrill awaken, It sadly, wildly, seems to say, Thy meek heart mourns its truth forsaken. Or there was one who never more Shall meet thee with the looks of gladness, When all of happier life was o'er, When first began thy night of sadness. Sweet mourner, cease that melting strain, Too well it suits the grave's cold slumbers; Too well -- the heart that loved in vain Breathes, lives, and weeps in those wild numbers. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FIFTY YEARS (1863-1913) by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON TO A BLOCKHEAD by ALEXANDER POPE ODES: BOOK 2: ODE 2. TO SLEEP by MARK AKENSIDE THE GRAVE OF COLUMBUS by JOANNA BAILLIE VERSES, RESPECTFULLY & AFFECTIONALLY INSCRIBED TO PROFESSIONAL FRIEND by BERNARD BARTON LANDSCAPE by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE S. BARTHOLOMEW by JOSEPH BEAUMONT |