 | The Poetical Works of Robert Story |  |
How Sleep the Dead.
1821.
How sleep the dead in yon church yard,
Where chequering moonbeams purely fall?
How sleep the dead beneath the sward?
Calmly—softly—sweetly all!
Where chequering moonbeams purely fall?
How sleep the dead beneath the sward?
Calmly—softly—sweetly all!
In mute companionship they lie—
No hearts that ache, no eyes that weep!
Pain, sickness, trouble, come not nigh
The beds of those that yonder sleep.
No hearts that ache, no eyes that weep!
Pain, sickness, trouble, come not nigh
The beds of those that yonder sleep.
Around, the world is passion-tost—
War, murder, crime, for ever reign;
Of sacred peace alone may boast
The church yard's undisturbed domain.
War, murder, crime, for ever reign;
Of sacred peace alone may boast
The church yard's undisturbed domain.
23
The stormy sea of human life,
With all its surges, roars around;
Their barrier-wall repels its strife—
No wave breaks o'er their hallowed ground!
With all its surges, roars around;
Their barrier-wall repels its strife—
No wave breaks o'er their hallowed ground!
Around, the summer sun may scorch—
The dead feel not the sultry ray;
Winter may howl in spire and porch—
The dead are reckless of his sway.
The dead feel not the sultry ray;
Winter may howl in spire and porch—
The dead are reckless of his sway.
Thus sleep the dead in yon church yard,
Where chequering moonbeams purely fall;
Thus sleep the dead beneath the sward—
Calmly—softly—sweetly all!
Where chequering moonbeams purely fall;
Thus sleep the dead beneath the sward—
Calmly—softly—sweetly all!
| The Poetical Works of Robert Story | |