"But where shall I find rest? Alas! Soon as the winter winds shall rave At midnight, through the long dark grass, Above mine unremembered grave." —MANGAN WHEN locked in marble Death's embrace, When hushed and tideless sleeps my face, And vanquished every living grace, You'll love me then— Ah, only then! The shrouded limbs, the sobbing bell, The wreath of yew and asphodel, Will wring the tears you cannot quell— Unhappy fate! Too late—too late. Too late, oh lost and worshiped one! Too late, when life is darkly done! Too late—too late beneath the sun— And shall it be Eternity? Do souls wild-wand'ring on the shore— The spectral land of "Nevermore"— Come back to those they loved of yore, Although in vain— Although in pain? Will any wave that swims the sea, Will any cloud that climbs the lee, Bring me to you, or you to me— Me to you Or you to me? Though I should stalk the globe amain, In the rude throbbings of the rain, I'd roam through Paradise again, In frenzied quest Of rest—of rest! And if you saw how blasted years Had hewn my cheek for caverned tears, Would you repel me from the spheres, Or clasp me fast, At last—at last? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PHILIP, MY KING by DINAH MARIA MULOCK CRAIK THE WILDERNESS TRANSFORMED by PHILIP DODDRIDGE A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 4. REVEILLE by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN THE WIND AND THE MOON by GEORGE MACDONALD MOUNT PIERUS by ANTIPATER OF SIDON |