AH! cruel maid, come thou not nigh This urn wherein mine ashes lie, For sacred to my grief, this spot Is hallow'd ground—profane it not. Thy flowers are offer'd all in vain, I scorn thy sorrow, why complain? A scatter'd wreath, a tear-drop shed, What can they now avail the dead? Ah! cruel maid, I need no more The aid I sought in vain before; It had indeed been well to give Thy pity ere I ceas'd to live. Why deafen with unceasing sound Of useless woe the groves around? Leave undisturb'd a wretched shade To sleep in quiet where 'tis laid. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DOMESDAY BOOK: HENRY BAKER, AT NEW YORK by EDGAR LEE MASTERS ON AN UNFINISHED STATUE BY MICHAEL ANGELO by GEORGE SANTAYANA THE SONG OF THE PILGRIMS by RUPERT BROOKE LEARNING TO READ by FRANCES ELLEN WATKINS HARPER MEMORIAL TO D.C.: 2. PRAYER TO PERSEPHONE by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY THE IVORY CRADLE by AUGUSTE ANGELLIER THE WOLD WAGGON by WILLIAM BARNES |