BEHOLD, all nature throbs with joy; O weeping willow, lift your head, Your drooping branches upward raise And mourn no more your sainted dead. The azure clouds above you sail; The ivies twine about your feet; The flowers in rich profusion bloom And fill the air with odors sweet. The tender winds are wooing you, Your slender leaves they lightly blow; The birds among your branches sing, And butterflies flit to and fro. The deepest grief must be assuaged; No heart-sobs well for aye and aye: Like Niobe, you weeping stand, And sadly mourn your life away. What ties of kinship bind to you The mould'ring dust of mortal clay? Though man forgets to grieve, you chant A threnody from day to day. O weeping willow, lift your head, Your drooping branches upward raise, Behold all nature throbs with joy, And sings thanksgiving songs of praise. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNET: 50 by GEORGE SANTAYANA THE FLY, FR. SONGS OF EXPERIENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE THE BAYADERE by FRANCIS SALTUS SALTUS TO RICH GIVERS by WALT WHITMAN OLD SAUGATUCK MILL by GRACE JEWETT AUSTIN PSALM 58 (VERSION 1) by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE |