Song Sung in God's Acre
SONG SUNG IN 'GOD'S ACRE,'
ON HEARING A. WOOD-THRUSH SINGING THERE.
BY 'THE PEASANT BARD.'
This wind blows fresh from out the west,
The leaves are green and wavy,
For June the maples sweet has drest
So bonnily and bravely.
The herds come lowing to the fold,
For day is in the gloaming:
Unloose, O Care! thy canker hold.
And with the airs be roaming!
All Nature smiles: she may rejoice:
O'er me the clouds seem lying;
A sombre sadness breaks my voice
And turns my song to sighing.
Oh! were I like yon guileless thrush,
Without a theme for sorrow!
Peace comes with evening round his bush,
And gladness with his morrow.
He has, dear bird! no buried past,
Its restless ghosts surviving,
With voices like the desert blast
Around the lost uprising.
With prophet ken he may not view
The Future's page of sorrow;
Peace falls with evening and the dew,
And gladness wakes her morrow.
Gill, (Mass.,) June 14, 1857.
This work was published before January 1, 1929 and is anonymous or pseudonymous due to unknown authorship. It is in the public domain in the United States as well as countries and areas where the copyright terms of anonymous or pseudonymous works are 95 years or less since publication.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse