 | In Russet & Silver |  |
14
TRISTIA
Cedar, whose boughs complain
Soft in the sheeted rain,
Cypress, who, o'er the dead,
Noddest thy velvet head,
Oaks, thro' whose casements green
Big drops, like tears, are seen,
Yews bending to and fro,
In this wet court of woe—
Soft in the sheeted rain,
Cypress, who, o'er the dead,
Noddest thy velvet head,
Oaks, thro' whose casements green
Big drops, like tears, are seen,
Yews bending to and fro,
In this wet court of woe—
Weep for the hearts that lie
Under day's maudlin eye,
Hearts that in love's red game
Leaped with the blood's bright flame,
Cared not for mist or fog,
Chirruped life's epilogue;
Now in your drip they soak—
Cedar, yew, cypress, oak!
Under day's maudlin eye,
Hearts that in love's red game
Leaped with the blood's bright flame,
Cared not for mist or fog,
Chirruped life's epilogue;
Now in your drip they soak—
Cedar, yew, cypress, oak!
| In Russet & Silver | |