HIS young bride stood beside his bed, Her weeping watch to keep; Hush! hush! he stirred not,—was he dead, Or did he only sleep? His brow was calm, no change was there, No sigh had filled his breath; O, did he wear that smile so fair In slumber or in death? "Reach down his harp," she wildly cried, "And if one spark remain, Let him but hear 'Loch Erroch's Side'; He 'll kindle at the strain. "That tune e'er held his soul in thrall; It never breathed in vain; He 'll waken as its echoes fall, Or never wake again." The strings were swept. 'T was sad to hear Sweet music floating there; For every note called forth a tear Of anguish and despair. "See! see!" she cried, "the tune is o'er: No opening eye, no breath; Hang up his harp; he 'll wake no more; He sleeps the sleep of death." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ACCOUNTABILITY by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR EPISTLE TO SIR ROBERT WALPOLE (1) by HENRY FIELDING A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 21. BREDON HILL by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN FOR DECORATION DAY: 1861-1865 by RUPERT HUGHES BRIDAL BALLAD by EDGAR ALLAN POE MOLLY PITCHER [JUNE 28, 1778] by LAURA ELIZABETH HOWE RICHARDS THE HOUSE OF LIFE: THE SONNET (INTRODUCTION) by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI |