"WHAT art thou saying, doing, pensive dove, Upon that withered tree?" "Ah, friend, I moan." "Why moanest thou?" "Because my mate is gone, Dearer than life." "Why left she this fair grove?" "A fowler, through the cruel craft he wove, Limed her and slew, since when I mourn alone And chide harsh Death that took my cherished one Yet would not slay me with her, my true love." "And art thou fain to die and join thy mate?" "Do I not languish in this darksome wood Forever by regret of her pursued?" "O gentle birdlings, happy is your fate! Nature herself in love hath nurtured you To die or live unchanging lovers true." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EPITAPHIUM CITHARISTRIAE by VICTOR GUSTAVE PLARR ROCOCO by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE THE DYING SWAN by ALFRED TENNYSON THE DARKNESS OF EGYPT by MARIA ABDY FOR THERE IS NO HELP IN THEM by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN RECIPROCAL KINDNESS THE PRIMARY LAW OF NATURE by VINCENT BOURNE AH, WOE IS ME! MY MOTHER DEAR by ROBERT BURNS A TOAST, ON THE ANNIVERSARY OF RODNEY'S VICTORY by ROBERT BURNS |