And not the buried conquerors—let them sleep,
And let the flowery earth her sabbaths keep
In joy, from shore to shore!
“But, if the narrow house may so be moved,
Call the bright shadows of the most beloved
Back from their couch of rest!
That I may learn if their meek eyes be fill’d
With peace, if human love hath ever still’d
The yearning human breast.”
“Away, fond youth!—an idle quest is thine: