She will not die, they say, She will but put her beauty by And hie away. Oh, but her beauty gone, how lonely Then will seem all reverie, How black to me! All things will sad be made And every hope a memory, All gladness dead. Ghosts of the past will know My weakest hour, and whisper to me, And coldly go. And hers in deep of sleep, Clothed in its mortal beauty I shall see, And, waking, weep. Naught will my mind then find In man's false Heaven my peace to be: All blind, and blind. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A REPUBLIC! by EDGAR LEE MASTERS TREKKING THE HILLS OF NORTHERN THAILAND by KAREN SWENSON THE WELCOME by THOMAS OSBORNE DAVIS NATURE'S QUESTIONING by THOMAS HARDY THE CHILD'S FIRST GRIEF by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS TRACT by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS |