|
|
Oh! Breathe Not His Name.
By Thomas Moore
Oh! breathe not his name, let it sleep in the shade,
Where cold and unhonored his relics are laid:
Sad, silent, and dark, be the tears that we shed,
As the night-dew that falls on the grass o'er his head.
But the night-dew that falls, tho' in silence it weeps,
Shall brighten with verdure the grave where he sleeps;
And the tear that we shed, tho' in secret it rolls,
Shall long keep his memory green in our souls.
Extra Info:
|
|
Printable Page
Add Your Thoughts on this poem.
This page viewed 353 times.
|
|
