 | Wood-notes and Church-bells |  |
257
THE POET'S GRAVE.
Now no more we see him wander
On the mountain's breezy crest,
Or in glen sequestered rest,
Or by mossy fountain ponder.
On the mountain's breezy crest,
Or in glen sequestered rest,
Or by mossy fountain ponder.
No more follow the swift river,
As through rocky bed it brawls,
Or in rushing waterfalls
Makes sweet melodies for ever.
As through rocky bed it brawls,
Or in rushing waterfalls
Makes sweet melodies for ever.
Winds still seek the mountain hoary,
Rustle in the glen below—
Music haunts the river's flow—
But from all has passed a glory.
Rustle in the glen below—
Music haunts the river's flow—
But from all has passed a glory.
258
Glen and mountain seem to know it,
And are wrapt in weeping cloud—
While the stream laments aloud—
Nature sorrowing for her Poet.
And are wrapt in weeping cloud—
While the stream laments aloud—
Nature sorrowing for her Poet.
No more to the heathery mountain
Will the Poet sing again,
No more to the leafy glen,
To swift stream or mossy fountain.
Will the Poet sing again,
No more to the leafy glen,
To swift stream or mossy fountain.
But to him will sing for ever
Mountain breezes o'er his grave,
Mountain stream with whispering wave,
Leafy glen with rustling quiver.
Mountain breezes o'er his grave,
Mountain stream with whispering wave,
Leafy glen with rustling quiver.
Birch and aspen will bend o'er him,
Circling pines a requiem sigh,
While the river murmurs by,
And the mountain towers before him!
Circling pines a requiem sigh,
While the river murmurs by,
And the mountain towers before him!
| Wood-notes and Church-bells | |