Francis Ledwidge (19 August 1887 – 31 July 1917 / Janeville, Slane)
At A Poet's Grave
When I leave down this pipe my friend
And sleep with flowers I loved, apart,
My songs shall rise in wilding things
Whose roots are in my heart.
And here where that sweet poet sleeps
I hear the songs he left unsung,
When winds are fluttering the flowers
And summer-bells are rung.
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Dawn by Francis Ledwidge )
People who read Francis Ledwidge also read
Top 500 Poems
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley