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Robert Burns - Sonnet on the Death of Robert Riddell

2014-11-03 5 Dailymotion

NO more, ye warblers of the wood! no more; <br />Nor pour your descant grating on my soul; <br />Thou young-eyed Spring! gay in thy verdant stole, <br />More welcome were to me grim Winter's wildest roar. <br /> <br /> <br />How can ye charm, ye flowers, with all your dyes? <br />Ye blow upon the sod that wraps my friend! <br />How can I to the tuneful strain attend? <br />That strain flows round the untimely tomb where Riddell lies. <br /> <br /> <br />Yes, pour, ye warblers! pour the notes of woe, <br />And soothe the Virtues weeping o'er his bier: <br />The man of worth—and hath not left his peer! <br />Is in his "narrow house," for ever darkly low. <br /> <br /> <br />Thee, Spring! again with joy shall others greet; <br />Me, memory of my loss will only meet.<br /><br />Robert Burns<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-on-the-death-of-robert-riddell/

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