O MY Love Leonore! O my lithe Lady! Is it the Grave you are gracing to-night? Is your breast cold now and covered with white? Are you grown stiff, who were lissome and light? -- Are they the plain coffin-planks that you see, Narrow for feet that were flying and free, Rude for white hands that wove spells over me? -- O my Love Leonore, -- O my lithe Lady? -- Is your cheek cool of the flush that I fanned? Must you not dance now, nor once wave your hand? Can you not laugh, through the small stones and sand, -- O my Love Leonore! O my lithe Lady? -- -- It is the Grave I am gracing to-night. I am clay-cold now, and stiff-limbed, and white. A great Lord, DEATH, hath me in this plight. O my Love Leonore, O my lithe Lady, If he, the great Lord, lays hands on your hand, He will not help you to dance or to stand; Nor from your eyes brush the small stones and sand. Therefore farewell. Whom he wooeth is won. Therefore farewell. I am jealous of none. Are not both dancing and dying soon done? O my Love Leonore, -- O my lithe Lady? -- | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE ANGEL IN THE HOUSE: BOOK 2. CANTO 8. PRELUDE: THE KISS by COVENTRY KERSEY DIGHTON PATMORE ON BEING BROUGHT FROM AFRICA TO AMERICA by PHILLIS WHEATLEY THE STEAM-ENGINE: CANTO 6. ON THE CORK PACKET, 1837 by T. BAKER CLIO, NINE ECLOGUES IN HONOUR OF NINE VIRTUES: 4. WORTHY MEMORY by WILLIAM BASSE THE MARVELOUS MUNCHAUSEN by WILLIAM ROSE BENET |