A nation chants a threnody
For heroes laid to rest:
’T is echoed back eternally
From Earth's sob-swelling breast.
Listen! the birds repeat a dirge
For great souls passed beyond the verge.
When youth and maid in blither times,
When Thoughts were less than Things,
Brought in the May with joyous rhymes,
Dances and carollings,
The merry month seemed full of cheer;
But, ah! ’t was borne upon a bier.
And so, to minds attuned with it,
The eternal rhythm doth sound
Lament for graces infinite
Hid in the hollow ground:
The most delicious draught of joy
The World-Grief will with tears alloy.
Thus every hope destroyed in life
In death has left its sign:
The All hath conquered in the strife
Though Each for ever pine:
A moment means eternity,
A sand-speck all infinity,
And from this poor humanity
We argue the Divine
Page:Where the Dead Men Lie.djvu/239
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