|
|
A Place Of Burial In The South Of Scotland
By William Wordsworth
Part fenced by man, part by a rugged steep
That curbs a foaming brook, a Grave-yard lies;
The hare's best couching-place for fearless sleep;
Which moonlit elves, far seen by credulous eyes,
Enter in dance. Of church, or sabbath ties,
No vestige now remains; yet thither creep
Bereft Ones, and in lowly anguish weep
Their prayers out to the wind and naked skies.
Proud tomb is none; but rudely-sculptured knights,
By humble choice of plain old times, are seen
Level with earth, among the hillocks green:
Union not sad, when sunny daybreak smites
The spangled turf, and neighbouring thickets ring
With 'jubilate' from the choirs of spring!
Extra Info:
From Yarrow Revisited, And Other Poems
Composed During A Tour In Scotland And On The English Border, In The Autumn Of 1831.
|
|
Printable Page
Add Your Thoughts on this poem.
This page viewed 922 times.
|
|
