Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

HERE SLEEPS THE BARD by THOMAS MOORE

HERE sleeps the Bard who knew so well
All the sweet windings of Apollo's shell;
Whether its music rolled like torrents near,
Or died, like distant streamlets , on the ear.
Sleep, sleep, mute bard; alike unheeded now
The storm and zephyr sweep thy lifeless brow;
That storm, whose rush is like thy martial lay;
That breeze which, like thy love - song; dies away!




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