To One Dead Poem by Francis Ledwidge
To One Dead
A blackbird singing
On a moss-upholstered stone,
Bluebells swinging,
Shadows wildly blown,
A song in the wood,
A ship on the sea.
The song was for you
and the ship was for me.
A blackbird singing
I hear in my troubled mind,
Bluebells swinging,
I see in a distant wind.
But sorrow and silence,
Are the wood's threnody,
The silence for you
and the sorrow for me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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8/7/2026 9:53:00 AM # rel_20260806T081513Z_580e7f4
