THE CEMETERY IN SUMMER.
The west wind in the piny boughA low eternal threneWeaves o’er the dead that sleep belowThe sleep without a dream.The night-leaved cypress’ shadow glooms,The flexile willow sighs,While gorgeous summer glows and bloomsIn florid earth and skies.On marble shaft and urnal stoneGlimmers the sunny beam,And squirrels chirp and wild bees droneAbout the alleys green.Through leafy vistas, long and dim,Where slanting sunlights fall,I see a troop of spectres thin,In cerement, shroud, and pall.Shades insubstantial gliding slow,The harvest of the years,Above whose narrow dwellings flowBereaved affection’s tears.The din of life from yonder towersIs but a murmur here;A bee-like hum amid the flowers,It falls upon mine ear.Ye tranquil sleepers, stretched below,How pleasant is your rest!Your pulseless hearts no longer knowThe cares which life infest.The silent Hours no longer bringOr good or ill to you;And slander’s shaft no more can stingThe slumberer ’neath the yew.In cool seclusion dark and deep,Beneath the teeming mould,Ye reck not of the summer’s heat,The sleety winter’s cold.The constellated stars at nightThrough waving branches gleam,And Titan’s arrows, swift and bright,Across your couches stream.Sepulchral Eros, mourning hereForgetful of thy bow,With torch reversed and falling tear,And pinion-shaded brow!The eyes are dim beneath your tread,That sunned you with their light;The lips, where you on kisses fed,Are cold and lily-white.
The west wind in the piny boughA low eternal threneWeaves o’er the dead that sleep belowThe sleep without a dream.The night-leaved cypress’ shadow glooms,The flexile willow sighs,While gorgeous summer glows and bloomsIn florid earth and skies.On marble shaft and urnal stoneGlimmers the sunny beam,And squirrels chirp and wild bees droneAbout the alleys green.Through leafy vistas, long and dim,Where slanting sunlights fall,I see a troop of spectres thin,In cerement, shroud, and pall.Shades insubstantial gliding slow,The harvest of the years,Above whose narrow dwellings flowBereaved affection’s tears.The din of life from yonder towersIs but a murmur here;A bee-like hum amid the flowers,It falls upon mine ear.Ye tranquil sleepers, stretched below,How pleasant is your rest!Your pulseless hearts no longer knowThe cares which life infest.The silent Hours no longer bringOr good or ill to you;And slander’s shaft no more can stingThe slumberer ’neath the yew.In cool seclusion dark and deep,Beneath the teeming mould,Ye reck not of the summer’s heat,The sleety winter’s cold.The constellated stars at nightThrough waving branches gleam,And Titan’s arrows, swift and bright,Across your couches stream.Sepulchral Eros, mourning hereForgetful of thy bow,With torch reversed and falling tear,And pinion-shaded brow!The eyes are dim beneath your tread,That sunned you with their light;The lips, where you on kisses fed,Are cold and lily-white.
The west wind in the piny boughA low eternal threneWeaves o’er the dead that sleep belowThe sleep without a dream.The night-leaved cypress’ shadow glooms,The flexile willow sighs,While gorgeous summer glows and bloomsIn florid earth and skies.
The west wind in the piny bough
A low eternal threne
Weaves o’er the dead that sleep below
The sleep without a dream.
The night-leaved cypress’ shadow glooms,
The flexile willow sighs,
While gorgeous summer glows and blooms
In florid earth and skies.
On marble shaft and urnal stoneGlimmers the sunny beam,And squirrels chirp and wild bees droneAbout the alleys green.Through leafy vistas, long and dim,Where slanting sunlights fall,I see a troop of spectres thin,In cerement, shroud, and pall.
On marble shaft and urnal stone
Glimmers the sunny beam,
And squirrels chirp and wild bees drone
About the alleys green.
Through leafy vistas, long and dim,
Where slanting sunlights fall,
I see a troop of spectres thin,
In cerement, shroud, and pall.
Shades insubstantial gliding slow,The harvest of the years,Above whose narrow dwellings flowBereaved affection’s tears.The din of life from yonder towersIs but a murmur here;A bee-like hum amid the flowers,It falls upon mine ear.
Shades insubstantial gliding slow,
The harvest of the years,
Above whose narrow dwellings flow
Bereaved affection’s tears.
The din of life from yonder towers
Is but a murmur here;
A bee-like hum amid the flowers,
It falls upon mine ear.
Ye tranquil sleepers, stretched below,How pleasant is your rest!Your pulseless hearts no longer knowThe cares which life infest.The silent Hours no longer bringOr good or ill to you;And slander’s shaft no more can stingThe slumberer ’neath the yew.
Ye tranquil sleepers, stretched below,
How pleasant is your rest!
Your pulseless hearts no longer know
The cares which life infest.
The silent Hours no longer bring
Or good or ill to you;
And slander’s shaft no more can sting
The slumberer ’neath the yew.
In cool seclusion dark and deep,Beneath the teeming mould,Ye reck not of the summer’s heat,The sleety winter’s cold.The constellated stars at nightThrough waving branches gleam,And Titan’s arrows, swift and bright,Across your couches stream.
In cool seclusion dark and deep,
Beneath the teeming mould,
Ye reck not of the summer’s heat,
The sleety winter’s cold.
The constellated stars at night
Through waving branches gleam,
And Titan’s arrows, swift and bright,
Across your couches stream.
Sepulchral Eros, mourning hereForgetful of thy bow,With torch reversed and falling tear,And pinion-shaded brow!The eyes are dim beneath your tread,That sunned you with their light;The lips, where you on kisses fed,Are cold and lily-white.
Sepulchral Eros, mourning here
Forgetful of thy bow,
With torch reversed and falling tear,
And pinion-shaded brow!
The eyes are dim beneath your tread,
That sunned you with their light;
The lips, where you on kisses fed,
Are cold and lily-white.