Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, SONG, by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT



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First Line: Come with the summer leaves, love, to my grave
Last Line: The love I loved you with and left unsaid.
Subject(s): Love - Loss Of


COME with the summer leaves, love, to my grave,
And, if you doubt among the quiet dead,
Choose out that mound where greenest grasses wave
And where the flowers grow thickest and most red.

Come in the morning while the dews of night,
Which are fair Nature's tears in darkness shed,
Rim the sad petals nor are garnered quite,
Like my lost hopes untimely harvested.

Come to my grave—ah gather, love, those flowers!
Out of my heart they grow for your dear head.
These are its songs unwritten and all yours,
The love I loved you with and left unsaid.





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