When they had made the cradle Of ivory and of gold, Their hearts were heavy still With the sorrow of old. And ever as they rocked, the tears Ran down, sad tears: Who is it lieth dead therein, Dead all these weary years? And still they rock that cradle there Of ivory and of gold: For in their minds the shadow is The Shadow of Old. They weep, and know not what they weep; They wait a vain re-birth: Vanity of vanities, alas, For there is but one birth On the wide green earth. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE MODERN MOTHER by ALICE MEYNELL ASTROPHEL AND STELLA: 84 by PHILIP SIDNEY THE THREE HERMITS by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS ON THE DEATH OF CYNTHIA'S HORSE by PHILIP AYRES THE ELDER'S WARNING; A LAY OF THE CONVOCATION by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN AT HAWTHORNE'S GRAVE by CHARLOTTE FISKE BATES |