Death, I say, my heart is bowed Unto thine, -- O mother! This red gown will make a shroud Good as any other! (I, that would not wait to wear My own bridal things, In a dress dark as my hair Made my answerings. I, to-night, that till he came Could not, could not wait, In a gown as bright as flame Held for them the gate.) Death, I say, my heart is bowed Unto thine, -- O mother! This red gown will make a shroud Good as any other! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...COUNTING THE BEATS by ROBERT RANKE GRAVES SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: PETIT THE POET by EDGAR LEE MASTERS COLIN CLOUTS COME HOME AGAIN by EDMUND SPENSER WEDDED (PROVENCAL AIR) by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN HYMEN AND CUPID - MARRIAGE AND LOVE by APHRA BEHN A CURE FOR POETRY by ANNABELLA (GUISE) BLOUNT QUAIL AND THRUSH by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON |