 | [Poems by Payne in] John Howard Payne ... his life and writings |  |
THE TOMB OF GENIUS.
Where the chilling north wind howls,
Where the weeds so widely wave,
Mourn'd by the weeping willow,
Wash'd by the beating billow,
Lies the youthful Poet's grave.
Where the weeds so widely wave,
Mourn'd by the weeping willow,
Wash'd by the beating billow,
Lies the youthful Poet's grave.
Beneath yon little eminence,
Mark'd by the grass-green turf,
The winding-sheet his form encloses,
On the cold rock his head reposes—
Near him foams the troubled surf!
Mark'd by the grass-green turf,
The winding-sheet his form encloses,
On the cold rock his head reposes—
Near him foams the troubled surf!
“Roars around” his tomb “the ocean,”
Pensive sleeps the moonbeam there!
Naiads love to wreath his urn—
Dryads thither hie to mourn—
Fairy music melts in air!
Pensive sleeps the moonbeam there!
Naiads love to wreath his urn—
Dryads thither hie to mourn—
Fairy music melts in air!
310
O'er his tomb the village virgins
Love to drop the tribute-tear;
Stealing from the groves around,
Soft they tread the hallow'd ground,
And scatter wild flow'rs o'er his bier.
Love to drop the tribute-tear;
Stealing from the groves around,
Soft they tread the hallow'd ground,
And scatter wild flow'rs o'er his bier.
By the cold earth mantled—
All alone—
Pale and lifeless lies his form:
Batters on his grave the storm:
Silent now his tuneful numbers:
Here the son of Genius slumbers:
Stranger! mark his burial stone!
All alone—
Pale and lifeless lies his form:
Batters on his grave the storm:
Silent now his tuneful numbers:
Here the son of Genius slumbers:
Stranger! mark his burial stone!
| [Poems by Payne in] John Howard Payne ... his life and writings | |