The dismal yew, and cypress tall, Wave o'er the churchyard lone, Where rest our friends and fathers all, Beneath the funeral stone. Unvexed in holy ground they sleep, Oh, early lost! o'er thee No sorrowing friend shall ever weep, Nor stranger bend the knee, Mo Chuma! lorn am I Hoarse dashing rolls the salt sea wave, Over our perished darling's grave The winds the sullen deep that tore, His death- song chanted loud, The weeds that line the clifted shore Were all his burial shroud. For friendly wail and holy dirge, And long lament of love, Around him roared the angry surge, The curlew screamed above, Mo Chuma! lorn am I My grief would turn to rapture now, Might I but touch that pallid brow. The stream-horn bubbles soonest burst That earliest left the source: Buds earliest blown are faded first, In nature's wonted course: With guarded pace her seasons creep, By slow decay expire; The young above the aged weep, The son above the sire: Mo Chuma! lorn am I That death a backward course should hold, To smite the young, and spare the old. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LORD ULLIN'S DAUGHTER by THOMAS CAMPBELL SONNET: 53 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE THE WILD SWANS AT COOLE by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS TO THE MEMORY OF A FRIEND WHO DIED ON SABBATH MORNING by ELIZABETH BOGART THE NEST by JULIEN AUGUSTE PELAGE BRIZEUX THE SHEPHERD'S PIPE: SECOND ECLOGUE by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |