 | Areytos or songs and ballads of the South |  |
97
LOW SLEEPS THE BARD.
I.
Low sleeps the Bard, no stone above his rest,Far in the unbroken forests of the West;
No pilgrim seeks the spot, with generous care,
With flowers the grassy hillock to repair.
II.
But far, in happiest homes, his song is heard,While gentlest hearts with sweetest woes are stirr'd,
And memories, that embalm the name they keep,
Even while they murmur his, in homage weep.
III.
Well they remember, with rebuking sense,How great his toils, how small his recompense;
How lone he lived—unhonor'd 'till he died—
A people's scorn in life, in death their pride.
| Areytos or songs and ballads of the South | |