MY Manés to Clytie are crying, "Farewell, fair one! Is it thou whose footsteps here thro' the grass have run? Speak, is it thou, O Clytie? or must I stay To wait thee still? An thou comest not every day To muse a little on hours when I did thy will, To hold sweet parley, behold this shadow that still Doth love thee, ah! then shall my lone heart wearily heave Within the Elysian calm and my dead bones grieve Under the burdening ground. When the dawn winds run Over thy mouth and thy bosom, belovéd one, Weep, it is I thy lover whose soul hath fled Far from his hallow'd dwelling among the dead, Who on thy mouth, O dear one, alone would live. O! weep, and with fond arms open, thy kisses give!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE INNOVATOR by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET THE SPARROW by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR HAWTHORNE by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE HAYSTACK IN THE FLOODS by WILLIAM MORRIS (1834-1896) HER SECRET IS BETRAYED by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT THE GREENWOOD by WILLIAM LISLE BOWLES THE CAPTAIN by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD THREE MINUS ONE (REFRAIN SUGGESTED BY DR. RICHARD HOFFMAN) by BERTON BRALEY |