 | Short poems for short people |  |
A WISH.
How softly Spring enfolds it
In films of tender grass;
How lightly bend its violets
When warm-breathed breezes pass;
How clear its tiny headstone gleams,
How clear and fair and still;
How quiet is my darling's grave,
Out on the quiet hill;
In films of tender grass;
How lightly bend its violets
When warm-breathed breezes pass;
How clear its tiny headstone gleams,
How clear and fair and still;
How quiet is my darling's grave,
Out on the quiet hill;
I would that I might always keep
This Spring-time round her tomb,
That grasses might not lengthen there,
That roses might not bloom;
That splendid summer night not come,
The flattered lands to fill,
Nor clovers gird my darling's grave,
Out on the quiet hill.
This Spring-time round her tomb,
That grasses might not lengthen there,
That roses might not bloom;
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The flattered lands to fill,
Nor clovers gird my darling's grave,
Out on the quiet hill.
But always I would have the skies
Faint-blue, the sward faint-green,
And vistas of white-blossomed boughs
Along the orchard seen;
And pathos of the violets,
And odors vaguely borne,
And Spring to mourn my darling,
As only Spring can mourn!
Faint-blue, the sward faint-green,
And vistas of white-blossomed boughs
Along the orchard seen;
And pathos of the violets,
And odors vaguely borne,
And Spring to mourn my darling,
As only Spring can mourn!
| Short poems for short people | |