Poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Delia

Sweet as the tender fragrance that survives,
When martyred flowers breathe out their little lives,
Sweet as a song that once consoled our pain,
But never will be sung to us again,
Is thy remembrance.  Now the hour of rest
Hath come to thee.  Sleep, darling; it is best.

1. The Belfry of Bruges
2. Midnight Mass for the Dying Year
3. Burial of the Minnisink
4. Blind Bartimeus
5. Hymn of the Moravian Nuns of Bethlehem

John Wolcot Delia ("Lo, the pride of the village is dead!")

Print

2093 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version