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Rating: 2.6
Ay, thou art for the grave; thy glances shine
Too brightly to shine long; another Spring
Shall deck her for men's eyes---but not for thine---
Sealed in a sleep which knows no wakening.
The fields for thee have no medicinal leaf,
And the vexed ore no mineral of power;
And they who love thee wait in anxious grief
Till the slow plague shall bring the final hour.
Glide softly to thy rest then; Death should come
Gently, to one of gentle mould like thee,
As light winds wandering through groves of bloom
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Connie 06 September 2020
Touching beautiful and sincere.
0 0 Reply
M Asim Nehal 05 February 2016
Close thy sweet eyes, calmly, and without pain; And we will trust in God to see thee yet again. William Cullen Bryant
1 1 Reply
Terry Craddock 03 June 2015
This is a beautifully penned poem, a wonderful sonnet, describing the horrible tragic inevitability, of a slow death by incurable consumption at the time. The poem deserves a far better recognition and ranking than it has received here.
3 2 Reply
Edward Kofi Louis 03 June 2015
Calmly, and without pain. With the ways of nature; as death came along. Nice work.
2 2 Reply
Chinedu Dike 03 June 2015
Beautifully penned with lovely rhyme scheme. Thanks for sharing.
2 2 Reply
John Richter 03 June 2015
My mother died during a snow blizzard in 1978. This poem just completely described that part of my life....
4 1 Reply

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