Let dew the flowers fill; No need of fell despair, Though to the grave you bear One still of soul -- but now too still, One fair -- but now too fair. For, beneath your feet, the mound, And the waves, that play around, Have meaning in their grassy, and their watery, smiles; And, with a thousand sunny wiles, Each says, as he reproves, Death's arrow oft is Love's. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE ANGEL'S SONG; CAROL by EDMUND HAMILTON SEARS A MARLOW MADRIGAL by JOSEPH ASHBY-STERRY DAWN MAGIC by CHARLOTTE LOUISE BERTLESEN NATALIA'S RESURRECTION: 16 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT THE PINE TREE by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN: 17 by BLISS CARMAN TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 3. FLY MESSENGER by EDWARD CARPENTER THE OLD WITCH IN THE COPSE by FRANCES CROFTS DARWIN CORNFORD |