Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, AFTER SUMMER, by PHILIP BOURKE MARSTON


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AFTER SUMMER, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: We'll not weep for summer over
Last Line: Steals no dream.
Subject(s): Death; Mourning; Summer; Dead, The; Bereavement


We'll not weep for summer over, --
No, not we:
Strew above his head the clover, --
Let him be!
Other eyes may weep his dying,
Shed their tears
There upon him, where he's lying
With his peers.
Unto some of them he proffered
Gifts most sweet;
For our hearts a grave he offered, --
Was this meet?
All our fond hopes, praying, perished
In his wrath, --
All the lovely dreams we cherished
Strewed his path.
Shall we in our tombs, I wonder,
Far apart,
Sundered wide as seas can sunder
Heart from heart,
Dream at all of all the sorrows
That were ours, --
Bitter nights, more bitter morrows;
Poison-flowers
Summer gathered, as in madness,
Saying, "See,
These are yours, in place of gladness, --
Gifts from me"?
Nay, the rest that will be ours
Is supreme,
And below the poppy flowers
Steals no dream.




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