Lo, my loved is dying, and the call Is come that I must die, All the leaves are dying, all Dying, drifting by. Every leaf is lonely in its fall, Every flower has its speck and stain; The birds from hedge and tree Lisp mournfully, And the great reconciliation of this pain Lies in the full soft rain. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONTENTMENT, AFTER THE MANNER OF HORACE by CHARLES STUART CALVERLEY TWO SONGS: 2 by CECIL DAY LEWIS THE EXEQUY [ON HIS WIFE] by HENRY KING (1592-1669) THE BELLE OF THE BALL by WINTHROP MACKWORTH PRAED SONNET: 54 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE TO AN INDEPENDENT PREACHER by MATTHEW ARNOLD ECLOGUE: TWO FARMS IN WOONE by WILLIAM BARNES |