Hark! -- do you hear the choral dead? Forgotten now their pride Who on this night would have us know They passed unsatisfied. They shiver like the thin brown leaves Upon a sapless tree, Clinging with palsied, withered might To their identity. Their voices are the unearthly winds That die before the dawn; And each one has some tale to tell, And, having told, is gone. . . . . . . . Ah! -- you who come with sea-blue eyes, And dead these hundred years, Be satisfied! I hold the cup Still brimming with your tears. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SUSSEX DRINKING SONG by HILAIRE BELLOC NORTH WINTER by HAYDEN CARRUTH PARAGRAPHS: 16 by HAYDEN CARRUTH |