Dirge Over A Nameless Grave

By yon still river, where the wave
Is winding slow at evening's close,
The beech, upon a nameless grave,
Its sadly-moving shadow throws.

O'er the fair woods the sun looks down
Upon the many-twinkling leaves,
And twilight's mellow shades are brown,
Where darkly the green turf upheaves.

The river glides in silence there,
And hardly waves the sapling tree:
Sweet flowers are springing, and the air
Is full of balm,-- but where is she!

They bade her wed a son of pride,
And leave the hope she cherished long:
She loved but one,-- and would not hide
A love which knew no wrong.

And months went sadly on,-- and years:--
And she was wasting day by day:
At length she died, -- and many tears
Were shed, that she should pass away.

Then came a gray old man, and knelt
With bitter weeping by her tomb:--
And others mourned for him, who felt
That he had sealed a daughter's doom.

The funeral train has long past on,
And time wiped dry the father's tear!
Farewell -- lost maiden! -- there is one
That mourns thee yet -- and he is here.

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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was an American poet and educator whose works include "Paul Revere's Ride", The Song of Hiawatha, and Evangeline. more…

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"Dirge Over A Nameless Grave" Poetry.net. STANDS4 LLC, 2019. Web. 25 Aug. 2019. <https://www.poetry.net/poem/18562/dirge-over-a-nameless-grave>.

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