 | The poetical works of Edmund Clarence Stedman |  |
28
TOO LATE.
Crouch no more by the ivied walls,
Weep no longer over her grave,
Strew no flowers when evening falls:
Idly you lost what angels gave!
Weep no longer over her grave,
Strew no flowers when evening falls:
Idly you lost what angels gave!
Sunbeams cover that silent mound
With a warmer hue than your roses' red;
To-morrow's rain will bedew the ground
With a purer stream than the tears you shed.
With a warmer hue than your roses' red;
To-morrow's rain will bedew the ground
With a purer stream than the tears you shed.
29
But neither the sweets of the scattered flowers,
Nor the morning sunlight's soft command,
Nor all the songs of the summer showers,
Can charm her back from that distant land.
Nor the morning sunlight's soft command,
Nor all the songs of the summer showers,
Can charm her back from that distant land.
Tenderest vows are ever too late!
She, who has gone, can only know
The cruel sorrow that was her fate,
And the words that were a mortal woe.
She, who has gone, can only know
The cruel sorrow that was her fate,
And the words that were a mortal woe.
Earth to earth, and a vain despair;
For the gentle spirit has flown away,
And you can never her wrongs repair,
Till ye meet again at the Judgment Day.
For the gentle spirit has flown away,
And you can never her wrongs repair,
Till ye meet again at the Judgment Day.
| The poetical works of Edmund Clarence Stedman | |