SOME are laughing, some are weeping; She is sleeping, only sleeping. Round her rest wild flowers are creeping; There the wind is heaping, heaping Sweetest sweets of Summer's keeping, By the corn-fields ripe for reaping. There are lilies, and there blushes The deep rose, and there the thrushes Sing till latest sunlight flushes In the west; a fresh wind brushes Through the leaves while evening hushes. There by day the lark is singing And the grass and weeds are springing; There by night the bat is winging; There for ever winds are bringing Far-off chimes of church-bells ringing. Night and morning, noon and even, Their sound fills her dreams with Heaven: The long strife at length is striven: Till her grave-bands shall be riven, Such is the good portion given To her soul at rest and shriven. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DEAR ELIZABETH: (FOR ELIZABETH DIFIORE) by KAREN SWENSON EARTH'S ANSWER, FR. SONGS OF EXPERIENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE THE QUANGLE WANGLE'S HAT by EDWARD LEAR THOUGHTS WHILE PACKING A TRUNK by CHRISTOPHER DARLINGTON MORLEY A DUTCH PROVERB by MATTHEW PRIOR THE LEAF by ANTOINE VINCENT ARNAULT |