THE ARAB'S GRAVE.(THEBES.)
LOW mournfully, ye breezes, blow! Bear pity on your breath,As through the palms ye linger, ere Ye touch these mounds of death.Nor rudely fling the sand-drifts where Sweet flowers ought to be,But find some octave here to chant A solemn symphony. Blow mournful, mournfully.Sing mournfully, ye desert winds, And kiss with dewy breath,The lowliest of these little mounds, So rudely heaped for death.Displace no chip of earth or stone,[1] Laid here by mourner's hand,
- ↑ The Arabs cover their graves with broken pottery, as no grass grows on the arid soil.
