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Poem by Edward Rowland Sill


STILL earth turns and pulses stir,
And each day hath its deed;
But if I be dead to her,
What is the life I lead?

Cares the cuckoo for the wood,
When the red leaves are down?
Stays the robin near the brood,
When they are fledged and flown?

Yea, we live; the common air
To both its bounty brings.
Mockery! Can the absent share
The half-forgotten things?

Barren comfort fancy doles
To him that truly sees;
Sullen Earth can sever souls,
Far as the Pleiades.

Take thy toys, step-mother Earth,Ч
Take force of limb and brain;
All thy gifts are little worth,
Till her I find again.

Grass may spring and buds may stir,Ч
Why should mine eyes take heed?
For if I be dead to her,
Then am I dead indeed.

Edward Rowland Sill

Edward Rowland Sill's other poems:
  1. Hermione
  2. Reproof of Love
  3. Tempted
  4. A Paradox
  5. Fertility

Poems of the other poets with the same name:

  • Sydney Dobell Alone ("There came to me softly a small wind from the sea")
  • Lewis Morris Alone ("WHAT shall it profit a man")
  • Edgar Poe Alone ("From childhood's hour I have not been")
  • Ambrose Bierce Alone ("IN contact, lo! the flint and steel")
  • James Joyce Alone ("The noonТs greygolden meshes make")

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