Herbert Asquith

(11 March 1881 - 5 August 1947 / London, England)

The Fallen Poet - Poem by Herbert Asquith

NOW that the soul has left its throne
Behind your mortal eyes,
And light, and colour and sound are gone
From the body's palaces :
Still in his wood the blackbird calls,
But there is one too few to hear :
And one too few to watch the trout
Swim through the music of the weir.

And once I dreamt that you were gone,
As dust upon the wave ;
Or, as a dropp in some deep well,
That none could sort or save.
But falling low between the stars,
So soon as I had such a fear,
At dusk and dawn a whisper came :
'The dead are near: the dead are near.


Comments about The Fallen Poet by Herbert Asquith

  • Anil Kumar Panda (11/18/2017 12:33:00 AM)


    So nice. Enjoy reading. (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Monday, April 30, 2012



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