Madmoments: or First Verseattempts By a Bornnatural. Addressed to the Lightheaded of Society at Large, by Henry Ellison |
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 | Madmoments: or First Verseattempts |  |
CHURCHYARDTHOUGHTS.
'Tis twilight; not a sound stirs on the air,Save the scarcebreathëd nightwind; the mindseye
As fades the outward Scene, rapt inwardly,
Feeds on strange fancies, 'mid these graves, which are
The meetingplace of Generations, where
Dust communes with past Dust — Friend, Enemy,
Rich, Poor, Son, Father, Kindred, mingled lie,
An undistinguished throng! years pass, and wear
Away the earth that severs grave from grave,
And dust must mix tho' twere of deadliest foes!
The grave knows no distinctions, it will close
Alike o'er kings and beggars, and nought save
The costlier Tomb that to the gazer shows
Its gilded Lie, nought marks the Tyrant from the Slave!
| Madmoments: or First Verseattempts | |