 | Collected poems |  |
521
FOR A COPY OF “THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD”
By Goldsmith's tomb the City's cry
Grows faint and distant; now no more,
From that famed street he trod of yore,
Men turn where those old Templars lie!
Grows faint and distant; now no more,
From that famed street he trod of yore,
Men turn where those old Templars lie!
Only some dreamer such as I
Pauses awhile from dust and roar
By Goldsmith's tomb!
Pauses awhile from dust and roar
By Goldsmith's tomb!
And then—ah, then!—when none is nigh,
What shadowy shapes, unseen before,
Troop back again from Lethe's shore!—
How the ghosts gather then, and sigh
By Goldsmith's tomb!
What shadowy shapes, unseen before,
Troop back again from Lethe's shore!—
How the ghosts gather then, and sigh
By Goldsmith's tomb!
| Collected poems | |