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The Funerals
I sit and watch the winding way,
Where, o'er the bridge, and through the grove,
The sorrowing mourners, day by day,
Follow the forms of those they love.
Where, o'er the bridge, and through the grove,
The sorrowing mourners, day by day,
Follow the forms of those they love.
259
In Winter's snows, and Summer's heat,
When leaves spring forth, and when they fall;
They follow on, with weary feet,
The mournful hearse with sable pall.
When leaves spring forth, and when they fall;
They follow on, with weary feet,
The mournful hearse with sable pall.
How many there, who mourn a friend,
Such as can never be supplied;
Who loved them e'en unto the end,
And gladly would for them have died.
Such as can never be supplied;
Who loved them e'en unto the end,
And gladly would for them have died.
Unnoticed passed they on through life,
Forgotten in their humble spheres;
The parent, child, the husband, wife;
The early lost, the bowed with years.
Forgotten in their humble spheres;
The parent, child, the husband, wife;
The early lost, the bowed with years.
What though their lives, as now their death,
Passed like yon quiet stream along;
Unheralded by public breath,
Unhonored by the poet's song?
Passed like yon quiet stream along;
Unheralded by public breath,
Unhonored by the poet's song?
Not less their deeds, because unknown,
Their daily toils, domestic care;
Than such as Fame's loud trump has blown,
Than such as widest glory share.
Their daily toils, domestic care;
Than such as Fame's loud trump has blown,
Than such as widest glory share.
Nor less their joy's calm, peaceful flow,
Than theirs, whose breasts with tumults swell;
Who with the pride of victory glow,
Or of a nation's honors tell.
Than theirs, whose breasts with tumults swell;
Who with the pride of victory glow,
Or of a nation's honors tell.
Yon
Grove, whose name describes their life,
Should best receive their honored dust;
They perished not in war's fierce strife,
But died in peace, and holy trust.
Should best receive their honored dust;
They perished not in war's fierce strife,
But died in peace, and holy trust.
There oft Affection's feet shall turn,
To dwell upon their memory dear;
To wreath with flowers the funeral urn,
Or shed the sympathetic tear.
To dwell upon their memory dear;
To wreath with flowers the funeral urn,
Or shed the sympathetic tear.
260
There, purified by grief, she views,
(The vail withdrawn,) their blest abode;
And, quickened by the sight, pursues
With joyful hope her heaven-ward road.
(The vail withdrawn,) their blest abode;
And, quickened by the sight, pursues
With joyful hope her heaven-ward road.
Poem No. 268; April 1850
| Jones Very : The Complete Poems | |