Explore "Barbara" by Eugene Field on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
BLITHE was the youth that summer day, / As he smote at the ribs of earth, / And he plied his pick with a merry click, / And he whistled anon in mirth; / And the constant thought of his dear one's face / Seemed to illumine that ghostly place.
The gaunt earth envied the lover's joy, / And she moved, and closed on his head: / With no one nigh and with never a cry / The beautiful boy lay dead; / And the treasure he sought for his sweetheart fair / Crumbled, and clung to his glorious hair.