THE wind flapped loose, the wind was still, Shaken out dead from tree and hill: I had walked on at the wind's will, -- I sat now, for the wind was still. Between my knees my forehead was, -- My lips, drawn in, said not Alas! My hair was over in the grass, My naked ears heard the day pass. My eyes, wide open, had the run Of some ten weeds to fix upon; Among those few, out of the sun, The woodspurge flowered, three cups in one. From perfect grief there need not be Wisdom or even memory: One thing then learnt remains to me, -- The woodspurge has a cup of three. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FRAGMENTS INTENDED FOR DEATH'S JEST-BOOK: A SUBTERRANEAN CITY by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES A DEATH SONG by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR ON THE DEATH OF A FAIR INFANT DYING OF A COUGH by JOHN MILTON LEE TO THE REAR [MAY 12, 1864] by JOHN REUBEN THOMPSON NEIGHBORS by ANNE MILLAY BREMER |