WEEP no more, nor sigh, nor groan, Sorrow calls no time that 's gone: Violets pluck'd, the sweetest rain Makes not fresh nor grow again. Trim thy locks, look cheerfully; Fate's hid ends eyes cannot see. Joys as winged dreams fly fast, Why should sadness longer last? Grief is but a wound to woe; Gentlest fair, mourn, mourn no moe. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...REMEMBERED WOMEN by CARL SANDBURG THE DEATH OF A PHOTOGRAPHER by KAREN SWENSON TRUE UNTIL DEATH by ROBERT BURNS LEXINGTON [APRIL 19, 1775] by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES MIRACLES by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH |