COME with the summer leaves, love, to my grave, And, if you doubt among the quiet dead, Choose out that mound where greenest grasses wave And where the flowers grow thickest and most red. Come in the morning while the dews of night, Which are fair Nature's tears in darkness shed, Rim the sad petals nor are garnered quite, Like my lost hopes untimely harvested. Come to my grave—ah gather, love, those flowers! Out of my heart they grow for your dear head. These are its songs unwritten and all yours, The love I loved you with and left unsaid. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HOMAGE TO SEXTUS PROPERTIUS: 9 by EZRA POUND SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 41 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING INSCRIPTION ON THE MONUMENT OF A NEWFOUNDLAND DOG by GEORGE GORDON BYRON THE CITY OF DREADFUL NIGHT: 21 by JAMES THOMSON (1834-1882) THE BURIED FLOWER by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN THE PRETENCE by JOSEPH BEAUMONT INTRODUCTION TO A LADY'S ALBUM by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD |