SWEET mother, in a minute's span Death parts thee and my love of thee Sweet love, that yet art living man, Come back, true love, to comfort me. Back, ah, come back! ah wellaway! But my love comes not any day. As roses, when the warm West blows, Break to full flower and sweeten spring, My soul would break to a glorious rose In such wise at his whispering In vain I listen; wellaway! My love says nothing any day. You that will weep for pity of love On the low place where I am lain, I pray you, having wept enough, Tell him for whom I bore such pain That he was yet, ah! wellaway! My true love to my dying day. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE METROPOLITAN TOWER by SARA TEASDALE ON THE DEATH OF MRS. (NOW LADY) THROCKMORTON'S BULLFINCH by WILLIAM COWPER THE BIGLOW PAPERS: 3. WHAT MR. ROBINSON THINKS by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL THE PHILOSOPHER by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY THE GRAVE OF LOVE by THOMAS LOVE PEACOCK CLEVER TOM CLINCH GOING TO BE HANGED by JONATHAN SWIFT FIRST MUSICIAN'S SONG, FR. LAODICE AND DANAE by GORDON BOTTOMLEY |