PULVIS ET UMBRA by EDWARD NOYES POMEROY

When thou art lying under ground,
Beyond the reach of sight and sound,
The world will still go round and round;

But, troubled not by fool or wise,
Unheeding all beneath the skies,
Shadow and dust will thee suffice.

The youth and maid, who stroll above,
Will dream their dream, and deem it love;
But thee, beneath, it will not move.

With all the art that song employs
The birds will celebrate their joys,
But not for thee their amorous noise.

Without the least concern of thine
Will June bestow her days divine,
October spill celestial wine,

And Nature change, with changéd dress,
From loveliness to loveliness
That nevermore will thee impress.

However dear thy fame to thee,
With generations soon to be
It will not be a memory.

Though thou wast beautiful or brave,
Nor love or gratitude will save
Thy desolate, defenseless grave.

The epitaph, unread, unknown,
Will presently be overgrown
With lichens on the leaning stone;

The leaning stone will break in twain
And Nature, every hindrance vain,
Her old dominion will retain;

For here will summer's verdure grow,
And Winter, as the ages flow,
Fold and unfold his sheets of snow;

While, o'er thy dust as days go on,
Will deepen, until days are done,
The shadow of oblivion.

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

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