Robert William Service
Oh I have worn my mourning out,
And on her grave the green grass grows;
So I will hang each sorry clout
High in the corn to scare the crows.
And I will buy a peacock tie,
And coat of cloth of Donegal;
Then to the Farmer's Fair I'll hie
And peek in at the Barley Ball.
But though the fiddlers saw a jig
I used to foot when I was wed,
I'll walk me home and feed the pig,
And go a lonesome man to bed.
So I will wait another year,
As any decent chap would do,
Till I can think without a tear
Of her whose eyes were cornflower blue.
Then to the Harvest Ball I'll hie,
And I will wear a flower-sprigged vest;
For Maggie has a nut-brown eyes,
And we will foot it with the best.
And if kind-minded she should be
To wife me - 'tis the will if God . . .
But Oh the broken heart f me
For her who lies below the sod!
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (The Widower by Robert William Service )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley
- Ndofta per te fundit here, skender iljaz braka
- Rreth zjarrit, skender iljaz braka
- Dhe pse plakemi, skender iljaz braka
- Pavdekesi, skender iljaz braka
- Sfide e perjetshme, skender iljaz braka
- Heshtja e lumit, skender iljaz braka
- Rrëpirave të thepisura të hënës, skender iljaz braka
- Pas teje vrapoja, skender iljaz braka
- Takim miqesh..., skender iljaz braka
- Loti i engjellit dhe loti i djallit, skender iljaz braka