Raise me; undraw the curtain; that is well. Put up the casement; I would see once more The golden sun-set flooding sea and shore; And hearken to the solemn evening-bell That ringeth out my spirit like a knell. The tree of love a bitter fruitage bore, Sweet at the rind but rotten at the core, Pointing to heaven and bringing down to hell. I will not name His name, lest the young life That dieth at my heart should live again; Strengthening me to renew the weary strife That ceaseth, -- is this death? It is not pain. Write on my grave: Here lieth a lone wife Whose faith was hidden and whose love was vain. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SYMPATHY (2) by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR ODES: BOOK 2: ODE 15. ON DOMESTIC MANNERS (UNFINISHED) by MARK AKENSIDE THE MERCHANT OF VENICE; A LEGEND OF ITALY by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM THE SERVANT by JOSEPH BEAUMONT ERE THE GOLDEN BOWL IS BROKEN by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH |