Her final summer was it, And yet we guessed it not; If tenderer industriousness Pervaded her, we thought A further force of life Developed from within, -- When Death lit all the shortness up, And made the hurry plain. We wondered at our blindness, -- When nothing was to see But her Carrara guide-post, -- At our stupidity, When, duller than our dulness, The busy darling lay, So busy was she, finishing, So leisurely were we! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONGS WITH PRELUDES: REGRET by JEAN INGELOW THE ENTHUSIAST, OR, THE LOVER OF NATURE by JOSEPH WARTON PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 85. AL-MUKSIT by EDWIN ARNOLD ASOLANDO: FLUTE-MUSIC, WITH AN ACCOMPANIMENT by ROBERT BROWNING |