DEAD love, by treason slain, lies stark, White as a dead stark-stricken dove: None that pass by him pause to mark Dead love. His heart, that strained and yearned and strove As toward the sundawn strives the lark, Is cold as all the old joy thereof. Dead men, re-risen from dust, may hark When rings the trumpet blown above: It will not raise from out the dark Dead love. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONTRA MORTEM: THE NOTHING I by HAYDEN CARRUTH JOHNNY APPLESEED by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE JACQUERIE: SONG. THE HOUND by SIDNEY LANIER TRAMP, TRAMP, TRAMP by GEORGE FREDERICK ROOT NEW PRINCE, NEW POMP by ROBERT SOUTHWELL THE WASTE PLACES by JAMES STEPHENS |