Helen Hay Whitney
Sigh Not for Love
SIGH not for love,—the ways of love are dark!
Sweet Child, hold up the hollow of your hand
And catch the sparks that flutter from the star!
See how the late sky spreads in flushing bars!
They are dead roses from your own dear land,
Tossed high by kindly breezes; lean, and hark,
And you shall know how Morning glads her lark!
The timid Dawn, herself a little child,
Casts up shy eyes in loving worship, dear,
Is it not yet enough? The Spring is here,
And would you weep for winter's tempest wild?
Sigh not for love,—the ways of love are dark!
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Comments about this poem (Sigh Not for Love by Helen Hay Whitney )
- I am Thy Woman O my Protector, Aftab Alam
- थिरिँ बिरिँ #12, Ronjoy Brahma
- Wandering With Affliction, Donald R Charon
- थिरिँ बिरिँ #11, Ronjoy Brahma
- Thoughtful Interlude, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- Another Look At Easter, Denis Martindale
- थिरिँ बिरिँ #10, Ronjoy Brahma
- Lost Love Redux, Robert Kane
- When I see u, dipa bhattacharyya
- This Flower, Rohit Sapra
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(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
Edgar Allan Poe
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