HERE of a truth the world's extremes are met: Amid the gray, the moss-grown tombs of those Who led long lives obscure till came the close When, their calm days being done, their suns were set -- Here stands a grave, all monumentless yet, Wrapped like the others in a deep repose; But while you wakeful ocean ebbs and flows It is a grave the world shall not forget, This grave on which meek violets grow and thyme, Summer's fair heralds; and a stranger now Pauses to see a poet's resting-place, But one of those who will in many a clime On each return of this sad day avow Fond love's regret that ne'er they saw his face. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OUR CHRIST by HARRY WEBB FARRINGTON WEARINESS by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW FANCY, FR. THE MERCHANT OF VENICE by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE WHEN YOU ARE OLD by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS GREAT THOUGHTS by PHILIP JAMES BAILEY THE SEVEN OLD MEN; TO VICTOR HUGO by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE |