DIRGE.
LET us keep him warm, Stir the dying fire:
Poems of Thomas Bailey Aldrich / [by Thomas Bailey Aldrich] [electronic text]
About this Item
- Title
- Poems of Thomas Bailey Aldrich / [by Thomas Bailey Aldrich] [electronic text]
- Author
- Aldrich, Thomas Bailey, 1836-1907
- Publication
- Boston and New York: Houghton, Mifflin and Company
- 1885
- Rights/Permissions
The University of Michigan Library provides access to these materials for educational and research purposes. These materials are in the public domain in the United States. If you have questions about the collection please contact Digital Content & Collections at dlps-help@umich.edu, or if you have concerns about the inclusion of an item in this collection, please contact Library Information Technology at LibraryIT-info@umich.edu.
DPLA Rights Statement: No Copyright - United States
- Link to this Item
-
http://name.umdl.umich.edu/BAD9188.0001.001
- Cite this Item
-
"Poems of Thomas Bailey Aldrich / [by Thomas Bailey Aldrich] [electronic text]." In the digital collection American Verse Project. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/BAD9188.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed June 16, 2024.
Pages
Page 99
Upon his tired arm Slumbers young Desire.
Soon, ah, very soon We too shall not know Either sun or moon, Either grass or snow.
Others in our place Come to laugh and weep, Win or lose the race, And to fall asleep.
Let us keep him warm, Stir the dying fire: Upon his tired arm Slumbers young Desire.
What does all avail—Love, or power, or gold? Life is like a tale Ended ere 't is told.
Much is left unsaid, Much is said in vain— Shall the broken thread Be taken up again?
Let us keep him warm, Stir the dying fire:
Page 100
Upon his tired armSlumbers young Desire.
Kisses one or two On his eyelids set, That, when all is through, He may not forget.
He has far to go— Is it East or West? Whither? Who may know! Let him take his rest.
Wind, and snow, and sleet— So the long night dies. Draw the winding-sheet, Cover up his eyes.
Let us keep him warm, Stir the dying fire: Upon his tired arm Slumbers young Desire.