Were you but lying cold and dead, And lights were paling out of the West, You would come hither, and bend your head, And I would lay my head on your breast; And you would murmur tender words, Forgiving me, because you were dead: Nor would you rise and hasten away, Though you have the will of the wild birds, But know your hair was bound and wound About the stars and moon and sun: O would, beloved, that you lay Under the dock-leaves in the ground, While lights were paling one by one. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CHAMBER MUSIC: 11 by JAMES JOYCE A CARELESS HEART by ISAAC ROSENBERG SELF-REJECTED by JEAN STARR UNTERMEYER THE SPRING OF THE YEAR by ALLAN CUNNINGHAM DREAMS (2) by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR DEATH OF THE DAY by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 49. WILLOWWOOD (1) by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI |