 | Poems and Translations |  |
54
DIRGE.
Blooms o' the May, with dew impearl'd,
Sweet pale roses of the Spring,
Bring, and heap
For her pillow, where uncurl'd
Those soft tresses may be laid.
Gentlest Sorrow! lay the Maid
Down, to sleep.
Sweet pale roses of the Spring,
Bring, and heap
For her pillow, where uncurl'd
Those soft tresses may be laid.
Gentlest Sorrow! lay the Maid
Down, to sleep.
No harsh sound disturb her rest!
Silent—keep thy nest, O Lark!
Dark! awake
That fond plaint thou lovest best.
Tune thy requiem, Nightingale!
—Out, alas! can Song avail
For Her sake?
Silent—keep thy nest, O Lark!
Dark! awake
That fond plaint thou lovest best.
Tune thy requiem, Nightingale!
—Out, alas! can Song avail
For Her sake?
| Poems and Translations | |