Poems (Rice)/In Memoriam (A grassy mound, with violets blooming o'er)
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For works with similar titles, see In Memoriam.
IN MEMORIAM.
A GRASSY mound, with violets blooming o'er,
Not all forgotten; here the song-birds pour
And blend their music with the rippling wave,
Above a cross which marks a freeman's grave;
The mild rebuke reflected from thy song,
Minstrels of light and air, to me belong—
Ye daily chant where the departed rest,
Singing till day sinks in the golden west.
Not all forgotten; here the song-birds pour
And blend their music with the rippling wave,
Above a cross which marks a freeman's grave;
The mild rebuke reflected from thy song,
Minstrels of light and air, to me belong—
Ye daily chant where the departed rest,
Singing till day sinks in the golden west.
Dost know, sweet birds, that by this lonely shore,
Where all unbidden, brilliant notes ye pour,
Here rests my kin who left his father-land,
Resisting monarchs and a tyrant band?
His griefs and wrongs are all unsung, untold,
Oppression spurning, noble, generous, bold,—
Would that my lyre, my feeble lyre, could wake
Music undying, for his memory's sake.
Where all unbidden, brilliant notes ye pour,
Here rests my kin who left his father-land,
Resisting monarchs and a tyrant band?
His griefs and wrongs are all unsung, untold,
Oppression spurning, noble, generous, bold,—
Would that my lyre, my feeble lyre, could wake
Music undying, for his memory's sake.
What were their thrones to thee, empurpled o'er,
Or crowns of jewels that thy monarchs wore,
Their robes of royalty, of pomp and state,
Or kingly courts, and all who on them wait?
Not such as these could charm thine eye and ear,
But calls that echoed loud, and wild, and clear,
For Freedom! Liberty! for peace and love!
Bowing thy knee to but one King, above.
Or crowns of jewels that thy monarchs wore,
Their robes of royalty, of pomp and state,
Or kingly courts, and all who on them wait?
Not such as these could charm thine eye and ear,
But calls that echoed loud, and wild, and clear,
For Freedom! Liberty! for peace and love!
Bowing thy knee to but one King, above.
Thy children's children, now, alas, again
Are battling, too, for what thou didst attain;
With loyal hearts they steadfastly endure,
With bleeding forms, and spirits dauntless, pure
As this fair cross which tender hands have brought;
Pure as the love which in the marble wrought
The touching record, here so sweetly graved,
Which has thy dust from dark oblivion saved.
Are battling, too, for what thou didst attain;
With loyal hearts they steadfastly endure,
With bleeding forms, and spirits dauntless, pure
As this fair cross which tender hands have brought;
Pure as the love which in the marble wrought
The touching record, here so sweetly graved,
Which has thy dust from dark oblivion saved.