Love, strong as Death, is dead. Come, let us make his bed Among the dying flowers: A green turf at his head; And a stone at his feet, Whereon we may sit In the quiet evening hours. He was born in the spring, And died before the harvesting: On the last warm summer day He left us; he would not stay For autumn twilight cold and grey. Sit we by his grave, and sing He is gone away. To few chords and sad and low Sing we so: Be our eyes fixed on the grass Shadow-veiled as the years pass, While we think of all that was In the long ago. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE MAGNETIC MOUNTAIN: 32 by CECIL DAY LEWIS CONCORD HYMN; SUNG AT COMPLETION OF CONCORD MONUMENT, 1836 by RALPH WALDO EMERSON BOSTON by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON THE MORAL FABLES: THE SWALLOW, AND THE OTHER BIRDS by AESOP LAURENCE BLOOMFIELD IN IRELAND: 4. BALLYTULLAGH by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM A SOUTHERN NIGHT by MATTHEW ARNOLD EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 22. 'TIS HONOURABLE TO BE LOVE'S MARTYR by PHILIP AYRES |