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Amy Levy - To a Dead Poet
Work rating: Medium

I knew not if to laugh or weep;
    They sat and talked of you—
"`Twas here he sat; `twas this he said!
    `Twas that he used to do. 

"Here is the book wherein he read,
    The room wherein he dwelt;
And he" (they said) "was such a man,
    Such things he thought and felt."

I sat and sat, I did not stir;
    They talked and talked away.
I was as mute as any stone,
    I had no word to say.

They talked and talked; like to a stone
    My heart grew in my breast—
I, who had never seen your face
    Perhaps I knew you best.
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