Charles Wolfe

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Charles Wolfe

Charles Wolfe (December 14, 1791February 21, 1823) was an Irish poet.


  • Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note,
    As his corse to the rampart we hurried.
    • The Burial of Sir John Moore.
  • But he lay like a warrior taking his rest,
    With his martial cloak around him.
    • The Burial of Sir John Moore.
  • Slowly and sadly we laid him down,
    From the field of his fame fresh and gory;
    We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone,
    But we left him alone with his glory.
    • The Burial of Sir John Moore.
  • If I had thought thou couldst have died,
    I might not weep for thee;
    But I forgot, when by thy side,
    That thou couldst mortal be.
    • To Mary.
  • Yet there was round thee such a dawn
    Of light, ne’er seen before,
    As fancy never could have drawn,
    And never can restore.
    • To Mary.
  • Go, forget me! why should sorrow
    O’er that brow a shadow fling?
    Go, forget me, and to-morrow
    Brightly smile and sweetly sing!
    Smile,—though I shall not be near thee;
    Sing,—though I shall never hear thee!
    • Go, forget me!

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