The Chinese tombs, Some, squares of shrubby trees, some, peaks and mounds, But more like tile-roofed huts and cottages, Rise here and there among the fertile grounds. The spring day blooms Palely above them, and a warm tear falls At moments from her opening eyes upon Those hillocks and those walls; The encircling wheat and beans as yet are wan, With the dim stress of winter hardly gone; The green corn waves With the thin wind in its tall shroudage flowing, Above those graves; the living labourer's hoeing Ends those graves. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 43 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING MY AIN COUNTRIE by MARY LEE DEMAREST IN THE SHADOWS: MY EPITAPH by DAVID GRAY (1838-1861) FAREWELL TO ARMS by GEORGE PEELE THE SUN'S TRAVELS by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON ELEGIAC STANZAS SUGGESTED BY A PICTURE OF PEELE CASTLE, IN A STORM by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH |