Dirge

by Frank Dempster Sherman

Let a song be softly sung;
Let a prayer be said;
Let a solemn bell be rung; --
Love is dead!

With the early buds he came,
When the snows were fled;
Lightly lisped the leaves his name
Overhead:

Sang the birds a sweeter strain;
Troops of roses red
Followed in a laughing train
Where he led:

Brighter beamed the stars above,
And the soft gales sped
Whispering the secret: Love
Soon shall wed!

Rang the bells in merry chime
When the promise spread:
Poets strung with beads of rhyme
Fancy's thread.

Fragrant petals lightly fell
Where his feet might tread:
Blossoms that he loved so well
Were his bed.

There he slumbers, pale and cold:
Let a tear be shed;
Let a solemn bell be tolled; --
Love is dead!