Page:Poems - Tennyson (1843) - Volume 1 of 2.djvu/66

A DIRGE.

i.

Now is done thy long day's work;

Fold thy palms across thy breast,
Fold thine arms, turn to thy rest.
⁠Let them rave.
Shadows of the silver birk
Sweep the green that folds thy grave.
⁠Let them rave.

ii.

Thee nor carketh care nor slander;

Nothing but the small cold worm
Fretteth thine enshrouded form.
⁠Let them rave.
Light and shadow ever wander
O'er the green that folds thy grave.
⁠Let them rave.