Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

PLORANS PLORAVIT by AUBREY THOMAS DE VERE

First Line: SHE SITS ALONE ON THE COLD GRAVE-STONE
Last Line: BUT THEIR SOULS ARE WITH GOD IN GLORY.'
SHE sits alone on the cold grave-stone
And only the dead are nigh her;
In the tongue of the Gael she makes her wail:
The night wind rushes by her.

'Few, oh few are the leal and true,
And fewer shall be, and fewer;
The land is a corse; no life, no force:
O wind with sere leaves strew her!

'Men ask what scope is left for hope
To one who has known her story: --
I trust her dead! The graves are red;
But their souls are with God in glory.'



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