(Killed in action July 31, 1917) Nevermore singing Will you go now, Wearing wild moonlight On your brow. The moon's white mood In your silver mind Is all forgotten. Words of wind From off the hedgerow After rain, You do not hear them; They are vain. There is a linnet Craves a song, And you returning Before long. Now who will tell her, Who can say On what great errand You are away? You whose kindred Were hills of Meath, Who sang the lane-rose From her sheath, What voice will cry them The grief at dawn Or say to the blackbird You are gone? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LENTEN GREETING; TO A LADY by GEORGE SANTAYANA THE PRISONER OF CHILLON: INTRODUCTORY SONNET by GEORGE GORDON BYRON A HYMN [TO THE NAME AND] IN HONOR OF SAINT TERESA by RICHARD CRASHAW THE MAIDEN QUEEN: SONG by JOHN DRYDEN THE HUMBLE-BEE by RALPH WALDO EMERSON |