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 | The select poems of Dr. Thomas Dunn English (exclusive of the "Battle lyrics") |  |
DEAD.
The golden sunflower droops to-day:
There shines no sun to which she may
Look up, and from the garden bed
Lift her rayed and stately head—
My love, my love is dead.
There shines no sun to which she may
Look up, and from the garden bed
Lift her rayed and stately head—
My love, my love is dead.
Though leaves be green, and brooks in tune,
And roses mark the month of June,
The brooks by bitter springs are fed,
The roses withered, leaves all shed—
My love, my love is dead.
And roses mark the month of June,
623
The roses withered, leaves all shed—
My love, my love is dead.
The blue has vanished from the sky;
The clouds are far, the clouds are nigh;
No shadows fall—all dark instead;
I wearily walk, with heavy tread—
My love, my love is dead.
The clouds are far, the clouds are nigh;
No shadows fall—all dark instead;
I wearily walk, with heavy tread—
My love, my love is dead.
My beard is white, my hair is grey;
December takes the place of May;
I grope along, a blind man, led
By memories sad; my life is sped—
My love, my love is dead.
December takes the place of May;
I grope along, a blind man, led
By memories sad; my life is sped—
My love, my love is dead.
Blow out the light, and leave me here,
Pallid and cold upon the bier;
A damsel fair to-day was wed;
When that you say all else is said—
My love, my love is dead.
Pallid and cold upon the bier;
A damsel fair to-day was wed;
When that you say all else is said—
My love, my love is dead.
| The select poems of Dr. Thomas Dunn English (exclusive of the "Battle lyrics") | |