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The Sepulchre Of The Books
'Tis a high stone pile
It will hold them all;
The books of the great and the books of the small,
They gather to their place of rest,
From the north and the south, and the east and the west.
It will hold them all;
The books of the great and the books of the small,
They gather to their place of rest,
From the north and the south, and the east and the west.
Come gather them in,
Come gather them in,
They cannot repent of their evil & sin
The good & the bad it will hold them all,
They will sleep on forever at rest in Gore Hall.
Come gather them in,
They cannot repent of their evil & sin
The good & the bad it will hold them all,
They will sleep on forever at rest in Gore Hall.
The place of the Skulls!
The place of the Dead!
The dim light will show them as through it we tread!
See here these huge columns! these heavy stones!
'Tis the tomb of the Books, 'tis the high place of Bones!
The place of the Dead!
The dim light will show them as through it we tread!
See here these huge columns! these heavy stones!
'Tis the tomb of the Books, 'tis the high place of Bones!
The hemlock and pine
Around it here wave,
They will sleep on in silence they have found here a grave;
Look here on each side what a high massy wall!
They will sleep on forever at rest in Gore Hall.
Around it here wave,
They will sleep on in silence they have found here a grave;
Look here on each side what a high massy wall!
They will sleep on forever at rest in Gore Hall.
226
All silent! all silent
They rest in the pile,
No more to bewilder, no more to beguile;
In silence unbroken their sepulchre be,
No light, save the candle, their resting place see.
They rest in the pile,
No more to bewilder, no more to beguile;
In silence unbroken their sepulchre be,
No light, save the candle, their resting place see.
Poem No. 721; c. January 1841
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