Half-hidden in a graveyard, In the blackness of a yew, Where never living creature stirs, Nor sunbeam pierces through, Is a tomb-stone, green and crooked -- Its faded legend gone -- With one rain-worn cherub's head To sing of the unknown. There, when the dusk is falling, Silence broods so deep It seems that every air that breathes Sighs from the fields of sleep. Day breaks in heedless beauty, Kindling each drop of dew, But unforsaking shadow dwells Beneath this lonely yew. And, all else lost and faded, Only this listening head Keeps with a strange unanswering smile Its secret with the dead. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN A CUBAN GARDEN by SARA TEASDALE DOCTOR FELL by MARCUS VALERIUS MARTIALIS IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: PROEM by ALFRED TENNYSON BEYOND GOOD AND EVIL by GEORGE EDWARD WOODBERRY THE GOOD SHEPHERD WITH THE KID by MATTHEW ARNOLD |