Not long ago it was a bird In vacant, lilac skies Could stir the sleep that hardly closed His laughing eyes. But here, where murdering thunders rock The lintels of the dawn, Although they shake his shallow bed Yet he sleeps on. Another spring with rain and leaf And buds serenely red, And this wise field will have forgot Its youthful dead. And, wise of heart, who loved him best Will be forgetting, too, Even before their own beds gleam With heedless dew. Yet what have all the centuries Of purpose, pain, and joy Bequeathed us lovelier to recall Than this dead boy! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...STORIES ARE MADE OF MISTAKES by JAMES GALVIN HOMING BRAVES by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: DOW BRITT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS GENEVIEVE AND ALEXANDRA (2) by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON |