The sad night wind, sighing o'er sea and strand, Haunts the cold marble where Napoleon sleeps; O'er Charlemagne's bones, far in the northern land, A vigil through the centuries it keeps; O'er Grecian kings its plaintive music sweeps; Proud Philip's grave is by its dark wings fanned, And round old Pharaoh's (deep in desert sand When the grim Sphinx leers at the stars) it creeps. Yet weary it is of this chill, spectral gloom; For moldering grandeurs it can have no care. Rich mausoleums in their granite doom It fain would leave, and wander on elsewhere, To cool the violets upon Gautier's tomb, And lull the long grass over Baudelaire. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE NATIONAL PAINTINGS: COL. TRUMBULL'S 'THE DECLARATION...' by FITZ-GREENE HALLECK CANADA by CHARLES GEORGE DOUGLAS ROBERTS BALLADE OF BROKEN FLUTES by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON FAREWELL TO THE FARM by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON |