by Thomas Hood
The dead are in their silent graves,
And the dew is cold above,
And the living weep and sigh
Over dust that once was love.
Once I only wept the dead,
But now the living cause my pain;
How couldst thou steal me from my tears,
To leave me to my tears again?
My mother rests beneath the sod, --
Her rest is calm and very deep:
I wished that she could see our loves, --
But now I gladden in her sleep.
Last night unbound my raven locks,
The morning saw them turned to gray,
Once they were black and well beloved,
But thou art changed, -- and so are they!
The useless lock I gave thee once,
To gaze upon and think of me,
Was ta'en with smiles, -- but this was torn
In sorrow that I send to thee.
Source:The Poetical Works Of Thomas Hood
Boston: Crosby, Nichols, Lee and Company