Stones from The Quarry or, Moods of Mind. By Henry Browne [i.e. Henry Ellison] |
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A CATHEDRAL FUNERAL-SERVICE. |
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 | Stones from The Quarry |  |
A CATHEDRAL FUNERAL-SERVICE.
Her heart is full to overflowing, asA cup just running over; one big tear,
Than Cleopatra's pearl more precious-dear,
Falls, and its purple bounds it doth o'erpass!
With the warm precious drops Death, wasteful, has
Bedewed his sterile path so blank and drear:
Too costly dew! in vain shed there, o'er sere
And broken hearts, and hopes cut down like grass!
The organ's vast, deep, mournful thunder-roll,
But muffled (like the ground-swell of the sea,
At distance, sad-presaging), fills the soul:
Collective utterance of Mortality!
As if, in yearning sympathy, the Whole
Bewailed, with that poor one, the dread To-be!
| Stones from The Quarry | |