Mount Auburn, and Other Poems

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W. D. Ticknor, 1843 - 156 oldal
 

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121. oldal - In some wild forest shade, Under some spreading oak, or waving pine, Or old elm, festooned with the gadding vine, Let me be laid. In this dim lonely grot, No foot intrusive will disturb my dust ; But o'er me songs of the wild birds shall burst, Cheering the spot.
122. oldal - But o'er me songs of the wild birds shall burst, Cheering the spot. Not amid charnel stones, Or coffins dark, and thick with ancient mould, With tattered pall, and fringe of cankered gold, May rest my bones ; But let the dewy rose, The snow-drop and the violet, lend perfume Above the spot where, in my grassy tomb, I take repose. Year after year, Within the silver birch tree o'er me hung, The chirping wren shall rear her callow young, Shall build her dwelling near. And ever at the purple dawn of day...
123. oldal - The golden oriole, shall flit around, And waken, with a mellow gust of sound, The forest's solemn hush. Birds from the distant sea Shall sometimes hither flock on snowy wings, And soar above my dust in airy rings, Singing a dirge to me.
122. oldal - But let the dewy rose, The snow-drop and the violet, lend perfume Above the spot where, in my grassy tomb, I take repose. Year after year, Within the silver birch tree o'er me hung, The chirping wren shall rear her callow young, Shall build her dwelling near.
151. oldal - They dance in the sunshine, they ride upon the iieams of the stars, they float about in the melodies of music, they nestle in the cups of the flowers, and I am forced to believe, that never a flower fades, or a beam passes away, without some being mourning the brief date of loveliness on earth.
143. oldal - Close its bright, scarce-opened eye, Blue as is the azure sky; Smooth those locks of flowing gold, Soon to tarnish in the mould ! Smooth the snowy funeral dress, Print the latest fond caress ; Close the lid, and spread the pall, Hither all the mourners call : Father ! kneel beside the bier, Mother ! drop the sparkling tear ; Brothers, sisters of the dead ! Let your partings now be said. Let the solemn preacher pray For the young soul flown away ! Bear the little coffin, then, From the noisy walks...
70. oldal - ... little band departed, Pilgrims from our classic home, Joyous each, and happy-hearted, Through life's untried scenes to roam, Little recked we of its sorrow, Joy to-day and grief to-morrow ! But alas, the thorny way Hath entangled many feet. And how many are reposing Where the churchyard tenants meet ! But no purer name than thine Fills the tablet's mournful line. Ashes to ashes — dust to dust ! 'Tis written that the glowing cheek In its youthful bloom must fade As fades the rainbow's painted...
11. oldal - ... cold world, Its void pretences, shallow sympathies, And crumbling friendships comfortless and cold. What love betrayed — how many a broken heart, What misery — what degradation sleeps Beneath thy beauteous bosom ! now at rest, Where pain can weary not, nor passion enter in. * * * William Winter. MOUNT AUBURN. SWEET Auburn! o'er thy rolling slopes The sparkling winter snows are spread; Fast, fast the feathery flakes descend O'er these calm dwellings of the dead...
121. oldal - The celebrated WILSON, the ornithologist, requested that he might be buried near some sunny spot, where the birds would come and sing over his grave. This wish is most beautifully expressed in the following lines. The author is unknown to me.

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