THEY die -- the dead return not. Misery Sits near an open grave and calls them over, A Youth with hoary hair and haggard eye. They are the names of kindred, friend and lover, Which he so feebly calls; they all are gone -- Fond wretch, all dead! those vacant names alone, This most familiar scene, my pain, These tombs, -- alone remain. Misery, my sweetest friend, oh, weep no more! Thou wilt not be consoled -- I wonder not! For I have seen thee from thy dwelling's door Watch the calm sunset with them, and this spot Was even as bright and calm, but transitory, -- And now thy hopes are gone, thy hair is hoary; This most familiar scene, my pain, These tombs, -- alone remain. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ODE TO A HUMAN HEART by SAMUEL LAMAN BLANCHARD INCIDENT OF THE FRENCH CAMP by ROBERT BROWNING THE SUN GOD by AUBREY THOMAS DE VERE ARS VICTRIX (IMITATED FROM THEOPHILE GAUTIER) by HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON YOUTH'S SONGS by MAXWELL ANDERSON THE SONG OF THE SAVOYARDS by HENRY AMES BLOOD TO HIS EXCELLENCY by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES |