He lives his lonely life, and when he dies A thousand hearts maybe will utter sighs; Because they liked his songs, and now their bird Sleeps with his head beneath his wing, unheard. But what kind hand will tend his grave, and bring Those blossoms there, of which he used to sing? Who'll kiss his mound, and wish the time would come To lie with him inside that silent tomb? And who'll forget the dreamer's skill, and shed A tear because a loving heart is dead? Heigh ho for gossip then, and common sighs -- And let his death bring tears in no one's eyes. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DOMESDAY BOOK: THE CONVENT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS WHAT DOES A WOMAN WANT? by KAREN SWENSON THANKS BE TO GOD by JANIE ALFORD WHITE GRASS by ADA BAZZACCHINI LOLA WEARS LACE by HELEN BIRCH-BARTLETT THE RING AND THE BOOK: BOOK 9. JURIS DOCTOR ... BOTTINIUS by ROBERT BROWNING THE BALL, 1789 by HENRY CUYLER BUNNER TO THE UNITED STATES OF NORTH AMERICA by THOMAS CAMPBELL OBSERVATIONS IN THE ART OF ENGLISH POESY: 18. ELEGIAC VERSE: THE FIRST EPIGRAM by THOMAS CAMPION |