HERE'S the bower she loved so much, And the tree she planted; Here's the harp she used to touch, -- Oh! how that touch enchanted! Roses now unheeded sigh, Where's the hand to wreathe them? Songs around neglected lie, Where's the lip to breathe them? Here's the bower she loved so much, And the tree she planted; Here's the harp she used to touch, Oh! how that touch enchanted! Spring may bloom, but she we loved Ne'er shall feel its sweetness, Time that once so fleetly moved, Now hath lost its fleetness. Years were days, when here she stray'd, Days were moments near her, Heaven ne'er form'd a brighter maid, Nor pity wept a dearer! Here's the bower she loved so much, And the tree she planted; Here's the harp she used to touch. Oh! how that touch enchanted! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...RIDDLE: TEETH AND GUMS by MOTHER GOOSE THE RUBAIYAT, 1879 EDITION: 15 by OMAR KHAYYAM ODE TO DUTY by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH GREENES FUNERALLS: SONNET 12 by RICHARD BARNFIELD THE ECLOGUE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THE SCYTHE STRUCK BY LIGHTING by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN TO A PHOTOGRAPHER by BERTON BRALEY SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 8 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING |