Since your limbs were laid out The stars do not shine! The fish do not leap In the waves! On our meadows the dew Is not sweet in the morn, For O Daly is dead! Not a word can be said! Not a flower can be born! Not a tree have a leaf! Anthony! After you There is nothing to do! There is nothing but grief! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PHYLLIDA AND CORYDON by NICHOLAS BRETON THE SUPPLIANT by EDMUND WILLIAM GOSSE THE EVE OF BUNKER HILL [JUNE 16, 1775] by CLINTON SCOLLARD THE SHEPHEARDES CALENDER: FEBRUARY by EDMUND SPENSER SONGS OF TRAVEL: 1. THE VAGABOND by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON |