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1862–1943

THE CRY

Virna Sheard

They have laid him away; Even he who was always so strong and gay Will be locked in the earth till the judgment day; “Dust unto dust” I have heard the priest say.

He will never return; Though I weep my eyes blind, though I pray and yearn,— Though the star-light goes out and the great suns burn Into whitest ash,— he will never return.

So of weeping — no more; It is tears fill the oceans from shore to shore; They have made the wind salt — the wind at my door; They harm the good ground — so of weeping — no more.

“Not again!” “Not again!” Do you hear the sea singing that one refrain? The pine trees, the wind and the wearysome rain All whisper it; “Never again!” — “Not again!”

Who can tell me — who knows, Where his lonely soul travels? Whither it goes?— Has he gone like the leaves?— Like yesterday's snows?—

Speak, dear Lord of Death! You who died — and arose!

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THE CRY · Virna Sheard · Poetry Cove