I gazed upon the glorious sky
And the green mountains round,
And thought that when I came to lie
At rest within the ground,
'Twere pleasant, that in flowery June
When brooks send up a cheerful tune,
And groves a joyous sound,
The sexton's hand, my grave to make,
The rich, green mountain-turf should break.
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For I know that thou wilt bring me to death, and to the house
appointed for all living.
For I know that thou wilt bring me to death, and to the house
appointed for all living.
See yonder maker of the dead man's bed,
The sexton, hoary-headed chronicle,
Of hard, unmeaning face, down read more
See yonder maker of the dead man's bed,
The sexton, hoary-headed chronicle,
Of hard, unmeaning face, down which ne'er stole
A gentle tear.
Of all
The fools who flock'd to swell or see the show
Who car'd about the corpse? read more
Of all
The fools who flock'd to swell or see the show
Who car'd about the corpse? The funeral
Made the attraction, and the black the woe;
There throbb'd not there a thought which pierc'd the pall.
One foot in the grave.
One foot in the grave.
Nigh to a grave that was newly made,
Leaned a sexton old on his earth-worn spade.
Nigh to a grave that was newly made,
Leaned a sexton old on his earth-worn spade.
Perhaps the early grave
Which men weep over may be meant to save.
Perhaps the early grave
Which men weep over may be meant to save.
No price is set on the lavish summer;
June may be had by the poorest comer.
No price is set on the lavish summer;
June may be had by the poorest comer.
The grave, dread thing!
Men shiver when thou'rt named: Nature appalled,
Shakes off her wonted firmness.
The grave, dread thing!
Men shiver when thou'rt named: Nature appalled,
Shakes off her wonted firmness.
June falls asleep upon her bier of flowers;
In vain are dewdrops sprinkled o'er her,
In vain read more
June falls asleep upon her bier of flowers;
In vain are dewdrops sprinkled o'er her,
In vain would fond winds fan her back to life,
Her hours are numbered on the floral dial.
