Her face was like an opening rose, So bright to look upon; But now it is like fallen snows, As cold, as dead, as wan. Heaven lit with stars is more like her Than is this empty crust; Deaf, dumb and blind it cannot stir But crumbles back to dust. No flower be taken from her bed For me, no lock be shorn; I give her up, the early dead, The dead, the newly born: If I remember her, no need Of formal tokens set; Of hollow token lies, indeed, No need, if I forget. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: OAKS TUTT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE TREE OF SONG by SARA TEASDALE THE CHILTERNS by RUPERT BROOKE WESSEX HEIGHTS by THOMAS HARDY TO MY EXCELLENT LUCASIA, ON OUR FRIENDSHIP. 17TH JULY 1651 by KATHERINE PHILIPS A MINUTE by INNOKENTI FYODOROVICH ANNENSKY |