|
|
 |
|
|
Bring, In This Timeless Grave to Throw
|
|
|
User Rating: |
|
6.7
/10
(3
votes)
|
|
|
|
|
|
Bring, in this timeless grave to throw, No cypress, sombre on the snow; Snap not from the bitter yew His leaves that live December through; Break no rosemary, bright with rime And sparkling to the cruel clime; Nor plod the winter land to look For willows in the icy brook To cast them leafless round him: bring No spray that ever buds in spring.
But if the Christmas field has kept Awns the last gleaner overstept, Or shrivelled flax, whose flower is blue A single season, never two; Or if one haulm whose year is o'er Shivers on the upland frore, --Oh, bring from hill and stream and plain Whatever will not flower again, To give him comfort: he and those Shall bide eternal bedfellows Where low upon the couch he lies Whence he never shall arise.
Alfred Edward Housman
|
|
Read poems about / on: christmas, flower, winter, snow, spring
|
|
 |
 |
 |
 |
|
 |
|
People who read
Alfred Edward Housman
|
 |
|
 |
 |
 |
 |
|