The Poetical Works of David Macbeth Moir Edited by Thomas Aird: With A Memoir of the Author |
| 2 |  |
 | I. |
| 2 | | II. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| 2 | |
| 2 |
|
 | The Poetical Works of David Macbeth Moir |  |
I.
Oh, when should we visit the graves of the dead,
To hallow the memory of days that are fled?
To hallow the memory of days that are fled?
At Morning,—when the dewdrops glisten
On the bladed grass and the whispering leaves,
When the heart-struck silence delights to listen
As the solitary blackbird grieves;
Then the glorious orient sun, adorning
The landscape, asks us, where are they,
Who, like larks, with us in life's sweet morning,
Carelessly sung all blithe and gay?
We listen in vain for their gentle voices,
We look in vain for their pleasant smiles;
Yet Nature still in her youth rejoices,
And almost the bosom to joy beguiles.
We find them not within the wildwood,
Up in the mountain, down in the plain,
As erst of yore, when the skies of childhood
Gleam'd bluely o'er us without a stain.
On the bladed grass and the whispering leaves,
When the heart-struck silence delights to listen
As the solitary blackbird grieves;
262
The landscape, asks us, where are they,
Who, like larks, with us in life's sweet morning,
Carelessly sung all blithe and gay?
We listen in vain for their gentle voices,
We look in vain for their pleasant smiles;
Yet Nature still in her youth rejoices,
And almost the bosom to joy beguiles.
We find them not within the wildwood,
Up in the mountain, down in the plain,
As erst of yore, when the skies of childhood
Gleam'd bluely o'er us without a stain.
Alas! and alas!
Green grows the grass—
Like the waves we come, like the winds we pass!
Green grows the grass—
Like the waves we come, like the winds we pass!
| The Poetical Works of David Macbeth Moir | |