O MY Love Leonore! O my lithe Lady! Is it the Grave you are gracing to-night? Is your breast cold now and covered with white? Are you grown stiff, who were lissome and light? -- Are they the plain coffin-planks that you see, Narrow for feet that were flying and free, Rude for white hands that wove spells over me? -- O my Love Leonore, -- O my lithe Lady? -- Is your cheek cool of the flush that I fanned? Must you not dance now, nor once wave your hand? Can you not laugh, through the small stones and sand, -- O my Love Leonore! O my lithe Lady? -- -- It is the Grave I am gracing to-night. I am clay-cold now, and stiff-limbed, and white. A great Lord, DEATH, hath me in this plight. O my Love Leonore, O my lithe Lady, If he, the great Lord, lays hands on your hand, He will not help you to dance or to stand; Nor from your eyes brush the small stones and sand. Therefore farewell. Whom he wooeth is won. Therefore farewell. I am jealous of none. Are not both dancing and dying soon done? O my Love Leonore, -- O my lithe Lady? -- | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LANDLADY'S DAUGHTER by JOHANN LUDWIG UHLAND LET ME FORGET by OMA CARLYLE ANDERSON SKYFARER by ANNA EMILIA BAGSTAD MICHAEL ANGELO by AUGUSTE BARBIER A TRIBUTE TO WILL ROGERS AND WILEY POST by ROSETTA THORSON BEACHLER PSALM 1; DONE INTO VERSE 1653 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE |