IT hardly seems that he is dead, So strange it is that we are here Beneath this great blue shell of sky With apple-bloom and pear: It scarce seems true that we can note The bursting rosebud's edge of flame, Or watch the blackbird's swelling throat While he is but a name. No more the chaffinch at his step Pipes suddenly her shrill surprise, For in an ecstasy of sleep Unconsciously he lies, Not knowing that the sweet brown lark From off her bosom's feathery lace Shakes down the dewdrop in her flight To fall upon his face. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CATTLE SHOW by CHRISTOPHER MURRAY GRIEVE AT CASTERBRIDGE FAIR: 2. FORMER BEAUTIES by THOMAS HARDY THE WAY THROUGH THE WOODS by RUDYARD KIPLING MARIPOSA by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 98. HE AND I by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI |