Verse > Anthologies > Andrew Macphail, ed. > The Book of Sorrow
Andrew Macphail, comp.  The Book of Sorrow.  1916.
XXVI. Melancholy
Under the Violets
By Edward Young (1681–1765)
UNDER the violets, blue and sweet,
  Where low the willow droops and weeps,
Where children tread with timid feet,
  When twilight o’er the forest creeps,
  She sleeps,—my little darling sleeps.        5
Breathe low and soft, O wind! breathe low
  Where so much loveliness is laid!
Pour out thy heart in strains of woe,
  O bird! that in the willows’ shade
  Sing’st till the stars do pale and fade.        10
It may be that to other eyes,
  As in the happy days of old,
The sun doth every morning rise
  O’er mountain summits tipped with gold,
  And set where sapphire seas are rolled;        15
But I am so hedged round with woe,
  This glory I no more can see.
O weary heart, that throbbest so,
  Thou hast but this one wish,—to be
  A little dust beneath the tree.        20
I would thou hadst thy wish to-day,
  And we were lying side by side
With her who took our life away
  That heavy day whereon she died.
  O Grave! I would thy gates were wide.        25

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