But yesterday thine eyes were bright As rays that fringe the early cloud; Now closed to life, to love, and light, Wrapp'd in the winding-sheet and shroud; And darkly o'er thee broods the pall, While faint and low thy dirge is sung; And warm and fast around thee fall Tears of the beautiful and young. No more, sweet one! on thee no more Will break the day-dawn fresh and fair; Nor evening's purple twilight pour Its softness round thy raven hair; No more beneath thy magic hand Will wake the lyre's responsive lay; Or round its warmth the wreath expand To crown a sister's natal day. Yet as the sweet surviving vine Around the bough that buds no more Will still its tender leaves entwine And bloom as freshly as before; So fond affection still will shed The light on thee it used to wear, And plant its roses round thy bed To breathe in fragrant beauty there. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...YOUNG LINCOLN by EDWIN MARKHAM SANDHILL PEOPLE by CARL SANDBURG HUMAN LIFE: ON THE DENIAL OF IMMORTALITY by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE THE BOOK OF MARTYRS by EMILY DICKINSON AT FREDERICKSBURG [DECEMBER 13, 1862] by JOHN BOYLE O'REILLY YARROW VISITED by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH ANTIMENIDAS by ALCAEUS OF MYTILENE |