THE dead are in their silent graves, And the dew is cold above, And the living weep and sigh, Over dust that once was love. Once I only wept the dead, But now the living cause my pain: How couldst thou steal me from my tears, To leave me to my tears again? My Mother rests beneath the sod, -- Her rest is calm and very deep: I wish'd that she could see our loves, -- But now I gladden in her sleep. Last night unbound my raven locks, The morning saw them turn'd to grey, Once they were black and well beloved, But thou art changed, -- and so are they! The useless lock I gave thee once, To gaze upon and think of me, Was ta'en with smiles, -- but this was torn In sorrow that I send to thee! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BABY'S SHOES by WILLIAM COX BENNETT GOOD-BY AND KEEP COLD by ROBERT FROST TO AMARANTHA, THAT SHE WOULD DISHEVEL HER HAIR by RICHARD LOVELACE THE TRAGICAL HISTORY OF THE LIFE AND DEATH OF DOCTOR FAUSTUS by CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE TO HIS WIFE by DECIMUS MAGNUS AUSONIUS THE WITCHES' FROLIC by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM MORGUE: 2. LOVELY CHILDHOOD by GOTTFRIED BENN THE WAKE OF TIM O'HARA (SEVEN DIALS) by ROBERT WILLIAMS BUCHANAN |