There's a dark tree and a sad tree, Where sweet Alice waits, unheeded, For her lover long-time absent, Plucking rushes by the river. Let the bird sing, let the buck sport, Let the sun sink to his setting; Not one star that stands in darkness Shines upon her absent lover. But his stone lies 'neath the dark tree, Cold to bosom, deaf to weeping; And 'tis gathering moss she touches, Where the locks lay of her lover. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PARTING AT MORNING by ROBERT BROWNING THE BRIDGE: 7. THE TUNNEL by HAROLD HART CRANE A TERRE (BEING THE PHILOSOPHY OF MANY SOLDIERS) by WILFRED OWEN KARMA by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON THE DIRGE [FOR FIDELE], FR. CYMBELINE by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE |