Lay her under the rusty grass, With her two eyes heavy and blind and done; Her two hands crossed beneath her breast One on one. Lay her out in the paling eve, With its sudden tears and white birch-trees; And let her passing seem to be One with these. Close her out of this hour of grief, And casting the earth on her, like a breath, Sew her tenderly, that she may Reap her death! And close her eyes, close, close her lips, For still, too still is her smitten tongue; Her hour's over, her breath has passed, And her song is sung. Lay her under the wild red grass In the fields death-tossed and bowed with rain; And let her silence seem to move Within the grain. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TWO FUNERALS: 2. by LOUIS UNTERMEYER GO SLEEP, MA HONEY by EDWARD D. BARKER THE LAST POST by ROBERT RANKE GRAVES THE NIGHT [NICHT] IS NEAR [NIGH] GONE by ALEXANDER MONTGOMERIE FIDELITY by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH THE EMPTY BOTTLE by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN LINES ON THE DEATH OF PHILIP MEADOWS by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |