WHILE all the dancing days that pass Take oath we cannot die, Alas! Alas! green grows the grass Whereunder you must lie. A golden Knight, sans fear or peer, Lord Love great challenge saith:— The hooded year is moving near That strikes my heart with death. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust! O bitterness thereof! The sons of Lust, they moulder. Must So fare the sons of Love? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ALMANACH DU PRINTEMPS VIVAROIS by HAYDEN CARRUTH FOR ST. BARTHOLOMEW'S EVE by MALCOLM COWLEY MOUNTAIN FARM by MALCOLM COWLEY ABOVE AND WITHIN by DAVID IGNATOW THE BUTCHER SHOP by DAVID IGNATOW TO MARY CHURCH TERRELL - LECTURER by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON DOWN BY THE CARIB SEA: 3. TEESTAY by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON |