THE bitter wind blows o'er the desolate wold,
-The bloom from the blossom forever is sped!-
And I must trudge on thro' the sleet and the cold,
And sweet to my heart were the lot of the dead.
Upon my shrunk bosom sleep seizeth my child,
-The bloom from the blossom forever is sped!-
Awaken my darling!-Alas, I'm beguiled,
And would I too slept the sound sleep of the dead.
Cold, cold are its feet and its bosom, and oh,
-The bloom from the blossom forever is sped!-
No more will the bird prove a light to my woe;
And would I too slept the sound sleep of the dead.
Its sweet glossy eyes seem to look at men yet,
-The bloom from the blossom forever is sped!-
They mind me of others I fain would forget;
And would I too slept the sound sleep of the dead.
Its soft silken locks, e'er as sunny as soft,
-The bloom from the blossom forever is sped!-
A-wet are the curies I've kissed so oft;
And would I too slept the sound sleep of the dead.
The wee tottie crept atween me and my toil,
-The bloom from the blossom forever is sped!-
But then its bit smile had the trick of his smile,
And would that I slept the sound sleep of the dead.
No father had I once to threaten or frown,
-The bloom from the blossom forever is sped!-
And mother kept silent till reason had flown,
Then dropt she to sleep-the sound sleep of the dead.
I've reached the old ruin endeared by the past,
-The bloom from the blossom forever is sped!-
He'll come here and find our bones whiten'd at last,
And lie down and rest by the dust of the dead.
The Ruin
Joseph Skipsey
(1)
Poem topics: child, father, heart, light, mother, wind, bird, sunny, mind, silent, forget, bitter, reason, dust, prove, smile, sweet, soft, cold, sound, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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