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,
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.
