In a lonesome burial-place 
Crouched a mourner white of face; 
Wild her eyes--unheeding 
Circling pomp of night and day-- 
Ever crying, "Well away, 
Love lies a-bleeding!" 

And her sighs were like a knell, 
And her tears for ever fell, 
With their warm rain feeding 
That purpureal flower, alas! 
Trailing prostrate in the grass, 
Love lies a-bleeding. 

Through the yews' black-tufted gloom 
Crimson light fell on the tomb, 
Funeral shadows breeding: 
In the sky the sun's light shed 
Dyed the earth one awful red-- 
Love lies a-bleeding. 

Came grey mists, and blanching cloud 
Bore one universal shroud; 
Came the bowed moon leading, 
From the infinite afar 
Star that rumoured unto star-- 
Love that lies a-bleeding.