THE SEASIDE CEMETERY
This is no silent city of the dead,
No soundless crypt;
No charnel-house (whence light and song have fled)
For gloom equipped.
No hidden, darksome, life-deserted spot
Of bloom bereft.
No soundless crypt;
No charnel-house (whence light and song have fled)
For gloom equipped.
No hidden, darksome, life-deserted spot
Of bloom bereft.
Where silent desolation, changing not,
Alone is left.
A city, looking from its sloping hill
Toward the sea;
A picture, blooming fresh and lovely
In memory.
Here droop bright fuchsias in a glowing hedge
Of brightness set,
And blue lobelias fringe the border's edge
With dewdrops wet;
While pelargoniums, with deep color stained
Make glad the ground;
And the green ivy clambers, unrestrained
O'er slab and mound,
And queenly roses and rich purple blooms
In freshness glow,
Dropping their fading petals on the tombs
That sleep below.
The white fogs hover o'er with silent wings,
Like guardian hosts
When early morn her misty mantle flings
Along the coasts;
Alone is left.
A city, looking from its sloping hill
Toward the sea;
A picture, blooming fresh and lovely
In memory.
Here droop bright fuchsias in a glowing hedge
Of brightness set,
And blue lobelias fringe the border's edge
With dewdrops wet;
While pelargoniums, with deep color stained
Make glad the ground;
And the green ivy clambers, unrestrained
O'er slab and mound,
And queenly roses and rich purple blooms
In freshness glow,
Dropping their fading petals on the tombs
That sleep below.
The white fogs hover o'er with silent wings,
Like guardian hosts
When early morn her misty mantle flings
Along the coasts;
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