Page:The Vow of the Peacock.pdf/300



The shadow of the church falls o'er the ground, Hallowing its place of rest; and here the dead Slumber, where all religious impulses, And sad and holy feelings, angel like, Make the spot sacred with themselves, and wake Those sorrowful emotions in the heart Which purify it, like a temple meet For an unearthly presence. Life, vain Life, The bitter and the worthless, wherefore here Do thy remembrances intrude?

willow shade is on the ground, A green and solitary shade; And many a wild flower on that mound Its pleasant summer home has made. And every breath that waves a leaf Flings down upon the lonely flowers A moment's sunshine, bright and brief— A blessing looked by passing hours.