Poems in many lands | ||
98
III.
He had the poet's eyes,
—Sing to him sleeping,—
Sweet grace of low replies,
—Why are we weeping?
—Sing to him sleeping,—
Sweet grace of low replies,
—Why are we weeping?
He had the gentle ways,
—Fair dreams befall him!—
Beauty through all his days,
—Then why recall him?—
—Fair dreams befall him!—
Beauty through all his days,
—Then why recall him?—
That which in him was fair
Still shall be ours:
Yet, yet my heart lies there
Under the flowers.
Still shall be ours:
Yet, yet my heart lies there
Under the flowers.
Poems in many lands | ||