Sleep is Death's image,-poets tell us so;
But Absence is the bitter self of Death,
And, you away, Life's lips their red forego,
Parched in an air unfreshened by your breath.
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I think that this poem is honestly awful. James Russel Lowell has big gay, he probably kissed a man. What a loser.1/5.
A beautiful verse on losing someone you are in love with. Enjoyed each stanza.. Thanks for sharing.
Εάν με την Παρουσία σας πήγε και η Εικόνα σας, αυτό το πνεύμα που γεννήθηκε από το νου δεν θα διασχίσετε ποτέ το μονοπάτι μου Αυτό που με συναντά τώρα, πού θα σας συναντήσω, εξαφανίζεται, για να αυξήσει την απώλειά μου.ΥΠΕΡΟΧΟ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! 10+++++++
Then came the unseen that filled his heart with illusions and took her away creating a void forever as absence is none other than death...........very deep and composed brilliantly.......thanks for sharing
Fantastic poem, wish more were like this!