Nothing that is shall perish utterly, But perish only to revive again In other forms, as clouds restore in rain The exhalations of the land and sea. Men build their houses from the masonry Of ruined tombs; the passion and the pain Of hearts, that long have ceased to beat, remain To throb in hearts that are, or are to be. So from old chronicles, where sleep in dust Names that once filled the world with trumpet tones, I build this verse; and flowers of song have thrust Their roots among the loose disjointed stones, Which to this end I fashion as I must. Quickened are they that touch the Prophet's bones. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 4 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING THE RUSTIC LAD'S LAMENT IN THE TOWN by DAVID MACBETH MOIR THE PRINCESS: SONG by ALFRED TENNYSON QUATRAIN: THE PARCAE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH WATER WOMAN by JOSEPH AUSLANDER |