YE pilgrim-folk, advancing pensively As if in thought of distant things, I pray, Is your own land indeed so far away— As by your aspect it would seem to be— That this our heavy sorrow leaves you free Though passing through the mournful town midway; Like unto men that understand to-day Nothing at all of her great misery? Yet if ye will but stay, whom I accost, And listen to my words a little space, At going ye shall mourn with a loud voice. It is her Beatrice that she hath lost; Of whom the least word spoken holds such grace That men weep hearing it, and have no choice. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BEAUREGARD by CATHERINE ANNE WARFIELD CIRCE by AUGUSTA DAVIES WEBSTER OUR HERITAGE by ISIDORE G. ASCHER HAPPINESS THROUGH THE YEAR by J. MARGARET CRUTE ASHCRAFT THE BATTLE OF THE PIGMIES AND THE CRANES by JAMES BEATTIE HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 20 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH TO THE LEANAN SIDHE (FAIRY MUSE) by THOMAS BOYD A PRAYER USED BY FRANCIS I WHEN HE WAS AT WAR WITH CHARLES V by JOHN BYROM |