 | The Works of Thomas Love Peacock |  |
73
MIRA
Beneath yon yew-tree's silent shade,
Long, tufted grass the spot discloses,
Where, low in death untimely laid,
Pale Mira's silent form reposes.
Long, tufted grass the spot discloses,
Where, low in death untimely laid,
Pale Mira's silent form reposes.
The plaintive bird, at ev'ning-close,
Pours there her softly-mournful numbers;
The earth its earliest sweets bestows,
To deck the grave where Mira slumbers.
Pours there her softly-mournful numbers;
The earth its earliest sweets bestows,
To deck the grave where Mira slumbers.
There Summer's brightest flow'rs appear;
There oft the hollow breeze is swelling;
The passing stranger drops a tear
On Mira's dark and narrow dwelling.
There oft the hollow breeze is swelling;
The passing stranger drops a tear
On Mira's dark and narrow dwelling.
The moralist, with musing eyes,
Loves there his pensive steps to measure:
“How vain is human pride!” he cries,
“How soon is lost each earthly treasure!”
Loves there his pensive steps to measure:
“How vain is human pride!” he cries,
“How soon is lost each earthly treasure!”
“To snatch the fleeting bubble, joy,
How weak is ev'ry fond endeavour!
We rush to seize the glitt'ring toy;
It bursts, it vanishes for ever!
How weak is ev'ry fond endeavour!
We rush to seize the glitt'ring toy;
It bursts, it vanishes for ever!
“How soon our pleasures pass away!
How soon our bliss must yield to sorrow!
The friend, with whom we smile to-day,
May wither in his shroud to-morrow!”
How soon our bliss must yield to sorrow!
The friend, with whom we smile to-day,
May wither in his shroud to-morrow!”
| The Works of Thomas Love Peacock | |