How those wet tombstones in the sun Are breathing silently together! Their breath is seen, as though they lived, Like sheep, when out in frosty weather. The dead beneath, that once could breathe, Are nothing now but breathless bones; And is this breath the same as theirs, Now coming from their own tombstones? So, when the end has come at last, And we're consigned to cold damp earth, Our tombstones in the sun will show, By their vain breath, what ours was worth. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 3. AMARYLLIS by THOMAS CAMPION THE BALLAD OF PROSE AND RHYME by HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON PLAIN LANGUAGE FROM TRUTHFUL JAMES by FRANCIS BRET HARTE ON LUCY, COUNTESS OF BEDFORD by BEN JONSON SONNET: 23. ON HIS DECEASED WIFE by JOHN MILTON THE RUBAIYAT, 1879 EDITION: 15 by OMAR KHAYYAM |