ONCE, and but once again I dare to raise A voice which thou in spirit still may'st hear, Now that thy bridal bed becomes a bier, Now that thou canst not blush at thine own praise! The ways of God are not as our best ways, And thus we ask, with a convulsive tear, Why is this northern blossom low and sere? Why has it blest the south but these few days? Another Basilic, * decked otherwise Than that which hailed thee as a princely bride, Receives thee and three little ones beside; While the young lord of that late glorious home Stands 'mid these ruins and these agonies, Like some lone column of his native Rome! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SELF-INTERROGATION by EMILY JANE BRONTE A BOOK OF AIRS SONG 18 by THOMAS CAMPION WHEN ALL IS DONE by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE FAIRY THORN; AN ULSTER BALLAD by SAMUEL FERGUSON RORY O'MORE; OR, ALL FOR GOOD LUCK by SAMUEL LOVER SIDNEY GODOLPHIN by CLINTON SCOLLARD UNDERWOODS: BOOK 2: 6. THE SPAEWIFE by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON THREE THINGS by CHRISTOPHER BANNISTER CLIO, NINE ECLOGUES IN HONOUR OF NINE VIRTUES: 1. TRUE AND CHASTE LOVE by WILLIAM BASSE |