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...EPITAPH ON AN ARMY OF MERCENARIES by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN BALLADE OF SCHOPENHAUER'S PHILOSOPHY by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS THE STRANGER by LAWRENCE ALMA-TADEMA ANNIVERSARIUM BAPTISMI (3) by JOSEPH BEAUMONT THE SONG OF THE SPANISH MAIN by JOHN BENNETT (1865-1956) CATHERINE TO GREGORY, THE POPE by MARY KATE BLAND TO THE MEMORY OF MY DEAR DAUGHTER IN LAW by ANNE BRADSTREET |