To One Dead

By Francis Ledwidge

A blackbird singing

On a moss-upholstered stone,

Bluebells swinging,

Shadows wildly blown,

A song in the wood,

A ship on the sea.

The song was for you

and the ship was for me.

A blackbird singing

I hear in my troubled mind,

Bluebells swinging,

I see in a distant wind.

But sorrow and silence,

Are the wood's threnody,

The silence for you

and the sorrow for me.