AND I TOO IN ARCADIA.
121
Flowers, in deepest shadowy nooks,
Nurslings of the loneliest brooks,
Unto them have yielded up
Fragrant bell and starry cup:
Chaplets are on every brow—
—What hath stayed the wanderers[1] now?
Lo! a grey and rustic tomb,
Bowered amidst the rich wood-gloom ;
Whence these words their stricken spirits melt,
—"I too, Shepherds! in Arcadia dwelt."
There is many a summer sound
That pale sepulchre around;
Thro' the shade young birds are glancing,
Insect-wings in sun-streaks dancing;
Glimpses of blue festal skies
Pouring in when soft winds rise;
Violets o'er the turf below
Shedding out their warmest glow;
- ↑ errata
