In this pleasant beechen shade Where the wild-rose blossoms red, Lieth one who, being dead, Is neither matron, man, nor maid. But once he wore the form of God, And walked the earth with meaner things: Death snapt him. See! above him springs The very grass whereon he trod! Let the world swing to and fro, The slant rain fall, the wind blow strong: Time cannot do him any wrong While he is wrapped and cradled so! Ah, much he suffered in his day: He knelt with Virtue, kissed with Sin - Wild Passion's child, and Sorrow's twin, A meteor that had lost its way! He walked with goblins, ghouls, and things Unsightly, - terrors and despairs; And ever in the starry airs A dismal raven flapped its wings! He died. Six people bore his pall; And three were sorry, three were not: They buried him, and then forgot His very grave - the lot of all! But strains of music here and there, Weird children whom nobody owns, Are blown across the fragrant zones Forever in the midnight air! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CUMBERLAND [MARCH 8, 1862] by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE SONG OF THE OLD MOTHER by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS I HAVE A GARMENT by ABRAHAM IBN EZRA THE FROGS: AN 'AESCHYLEAN' CHORUS by ARISTOPHANES TO THE FONT-GEORGES by THEODORE FAULLAIN DE BANVILLE CLIO, NINE ECLOGUES IN HONOUR OF NINE VIRTUES: 3. OF CONTENTMENT by WILLIAM BASSE LES HIBOUX by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE IN MEMORY OF MY DEAR GRANDCHILD ELIZABETH .. WHO DECEASED 1665 by ANNE BRADSTREET |