Classic and Contemporary Poetry
IN NARRAGANSETT CHURCHYARD, by ESTHER VERNON CARPENTER First Line: A lonely slope of fairest green Last Line: "manhood and womanhood were ours." Subject(s): Cemeteries; Narragansett Bay, Rhode Island; Graveyards | ||||||||
A LONELY slope of fairest green, Furrowed with ancient, low-ridged graves; Downward the forest-shadows lean, And sunlight comes in fitful waves. So sleeps the scene where, as of old, Should grief and memory oft repair; But love has faded and waxed cold, -- How silent broods the breathing air! 'Neath slanting stone or massive tomb Each churchyard dweller stirless sleeps, Nor recks of changing frost or bloom, Or distant cry of ocean deeps. On throbbing heart and eager brain Well hath the stern one wrought his spell, How poor are words, and signs how vain, The story of one life to tell! On that high, mossy, crumbling stone, Washed by a century's dripping showers, Mid phrases to our fathers known, The graven death's-head dimly lowers. And there, on many a weighty shaft, The last faint glow of knightly fame Survives in emblems that would waft To latest days some honored name. High on the right, with graven stone, The ashes of the powerful lie; Low on the left, 'neath turf alone, Watched by the same eternal sky, Repose at last the humble throng Who toiled that those might leisure know; To these no sculptured signs belong; No imagery of death and woe Mars the sweet sense of glad release, The rest that time and nature yield; The slave, the poor, the hireling, cease From labor in this tranquil field. Not all unheeded fled away These shadows of the dusky past; Here in some long-forgotten day The mourner's tears have fallen fast. But ere the wanderer's glance may pause On each neglected, sunken mound, His pious meed of pity draws A low response of solemn sound: "Come not to linger by our graves; Plant not thy curious footstep here; The past from thee no memory craves, No idle tribute of a tear. "Our names, our lives, why seek to know? Avails it, then, that thou shouldst learn Of aught but proud armorial show, Or brazen pomp of funeral urn? "See'st thou the glade in verdure drest? Our strength subdued the stubborn soil: In fields with golden promise blest Behold the triumph of our toil! "Nor we, the mothers of a race, Less bravely strove, in evil days, To cope with want, to win a space For freer life, in broader ways. "What though beneath no empty show Of funeral state our relics rest? Do they the sweeter slumber know Who long the marble couch have pressed? "To them their cherished pomp of place, Their selfish pride of heartless powers; Be ours the boast of loftier race, -- Manhood and womanhood were ours." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...POEM FOR MY TWENTIETH BIRTHDAY by KENNETH KOCH THERE IS ALWAYS A LITTLE WIND by TED KOOSER JEWISH GRAVEYARDS, ITALY by PHILIP LEVINE SAILING HOME FROM RAPALLO by ROBERT LOWELL THE HILL ABOVE THE MINE by MALCOLM COWLEY |
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