AND he is risen? Well, be it so. . . . And still the pensive lands complain, And dead men wait as long ago, As if, much doubting, they would know What they are ransomed from, before They pass again their sheltering door. I stand amid them in the rain, While blusters vex the yew and vane; And on the road the weary wain Plods forward, laden heavily; And toilers with their aches are fain For endless rest -- though risen is he. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FREDERICK DOUGLASS by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR A PRAISE OF HIS LADY by JOHN HEYWOOD TO MRS -- RETURNING FINE HYACINTH PLANT AFTER BLOOM IS OVER by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD MEARY WEDDED by WILLIAM BARNES THE UNSEEN WORLD by CRAVEN LANGSTROTH BETTS THE WANDERER: 6. PALINGENSIS: EPILOGUE by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |