His grave is lone by Guadalquiver, And low is his young heart laid, Where the quiet waves of The Yellow River Sleep in the linden shade; But hard and cold Lies foreign mould Beneath that royal head. Oh, had he fallen in the ringing battle Out by Dungannon's side, Where the Norman rout, like driven cattle, Choked Avon's swirling tide: Then should my grief Find proud relief When I sang how the Red Earl died. But I am come to this pale river, Weeping, from far away, Where my dear Avon rolls for ever, Pure as the dewy ray, When soft and bright The summer night Kisses the lingering day. Oh, lovingly that light is lying On grey Dunluce's hold, Where the breath of night comes shoreward sighing, Low sighing as of old; And, soft as sleep, The shadows creep Far up the Spears of Gold. But I must watch by this pale river, Weary and lone and grey: And my grief's tide must roll for ever Wearing this heart away-- Deep as the wave. Dark as his grave, Cold as my hero's clay. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONGS FOR TWO SEASONS: 1. AFTER GRAVE ILLNESS by CAROL FROST TO SAMUEL COLERIDGE UPON HEARING HIS 'SOME I FEEL LIKE A MOTHERLESS..' by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON EPITAPH IN A CHURCH-YARD IN CHARLESTON, SOUTH CAROLINA by AMY LOWELL BRICKLAYER LOVE by CARL SANDBURG |