I
Bluebirds linger here a while,
O’er this sacred grassy pile,
Sing your sweetest songs to me —
‘Tis the grave of Eulalie.
Roses white, around her tomb
Gently wave and sweetly bloom,
Let your silent language be —
“We will bloom for Eulalie.”
Let your silent language be —
“We will bloom for Eulalie.”
II
Streamlet, chanting at her feet
Mournful music, sad and sweet,
Wake her not, she dreams of me
‘Neath the yew-tree, Eulalie!
Eulalie, but yesternight,
Came a spirit veiled in white;
I knew it could be none but thee,
Bride of Death, lost Eulalie.
I knew it could be none but thee,
Bride of Death, lost Eulalie.
III
Angels, guard her with your wings,
Shield her from unholy things,
Bid her dream, love-dreams of me, —
Till I come, sleep, Eulalie!
Blue-birds, linger here awhile,
O’er this sacred grassy pile,
Sing your sweetest songs to me —
‘Tis the grave of Eulalie.
Sing your sweetest songs to me —
‘Tis the grave of Eulalie.
(Henry Sylvester Cornwell)
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Based on Topics: Sadness Poems, Death & Dying Poems, Dreams Poems, Sleep Poems, Angels Poems, Music PoemsBased on Keywords: blue-birds, love-dreams, eulalie