WHAT though no sculptured monument proclaim Thy fate—yet, Albert, in my breast I bear Inshrined the sad remembrance: yet thy name Will fill my throbbing bosom. When despair, The child of murdered hope, fed on thy heart, Loved, honoured friend, I saw thee sink forlorn, Pierced to the soul by cold neglect's keen dart, And penury's hard ills, and pitying scorn, And the dark spectre of departed joy, Inhuman memory. Often on thy grave Love I the solitary hour to employ Thinking on other days; and heave the sigh Responsive, when I mark the high grass wave Sad sounding as the cold breeze rustles by. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AT THE SAND CREEK BRIDGE by JAMES GALVIN NUPTIAL SLEEP by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 48. AL-WADOOD by EDWIN ARNOLD VERSES TO HER WHO IS JUSTLY ENTITLED TO THEM by BERNARD BARTON KING AND PEOPLE by CHARLES WILLIAM BRODRIBB LINES ON THE GRAVE OF A SUICIDE by THOMAS CAMPBELL |