I ask'd of little Nora, but he drew A piteous sigh - his answer did not come; My friend stood gazing on his daughter's tomb, Till, with a sudden shame, I saw it too; At last he said: 'She died three moons ago': So long entomb'd had little Nora been, So long I knew not of her father's woe! Then came her portrait forth, which I had seen, And he had shown with pride, when last we met; The same bright smile - the rose-o'erladen arms, And all her pretty sum of infant-charms; But lo! a fair memorial tress was set, Facing the porcelain picture, where his child Still nursed her pile of summer-wreaths and smiled. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...S. BARTHOLOMEW by JOSEPH BEAUMONT TO THE LORD LOVE (AT THE APPROACH OF OLD AGE) by KATHERINE HARRIS BRADLEY VERSES WRITTEN UNDER A PRINT by JOHN BYROM OBSERVATIONS IN THE ART OF ENGLISH POESY: 8. TROCHAIC VERSE: THE FOURTH EPIGRAM by THOMAS CAMPION |