What though my Harp, and Violl be Both hung upon the Willow-tree? What though my bed be now my grave, And for my house I darknesse have? What though my healthfull dayes are fled, And I lie numbred with the dead? Yet I have hope, by Thy great power, To spring; though now a wither'd flower. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE STARLING; SONNET by AMY LOWELL SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: ALBERT SCHIRDING by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: EPILOGUE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS ASTRONOMY by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN THE LOW-BACKED CAR by SAMUEL LOVER A MAY NIGHT by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS JENNY WI' THE AIRN TEETH by ALEXANDER ANDERSON A DEFIANCE, RETURNING TO THE PLACE OF HIS PAST AMOURS by PHILIP AYRES |