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Poem by John McCrae


Penance


My lover died a century ago,
Her dear heart stricken by my slandrous breath,
Wherefore the Gods forbade that I should know
The peace of death.

Men pass my grave, and say, Twere well to sleep,
Like such an one, amid the uncaring dead!
How should they know the vigils that I keep,
The tears I shed?

Upon the grave, I count with lifeless breath,
Each night, each year, the flowers that bloom and die,
Deeming the leaves, that fall to dreamless death,
More blest than I.

Twas just last year -- I heard two lovers pass
So near, I caught the tender words he said:
To-night the rain-drenched breezes sway the grass
Above his head.

That night full envious of his life was I,
That youth and love should stand at his behest;
To-night, I envy him, that he should lie
At utter rest.



John McCrae


John McCrae's other poems:
  1. The Harvest of the Sea
  2. The Shadow of the Cross
  3. Anarchy
  4. Quebec
  5. The Oldest Drama


Poems of the other poets with the same name:

  • Thomas Hardy Penance ("Why do you sit, O pale thin man")

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