A prison land-locked,
A grave for the living,
And the ancient warders unsleeping, unforgiving,
Cordon after cordon, massing behind me.
I am in peril. I have left the sea.
REGINALD HARRIS
(C. C. C.)
SONG
“My heart was blithe at morning.”
MY heart was blithe at morning,
For he was by my side,
And through the woods together
We wandered far and wide.
My heart was gay at noon-tide
Together on the lea
We lay, and heard the murm’ring
Of many a busy bee.
My heart was sad at even,
For in the cold stars’ wake,
I laid him in the dark, dark grave
And, oh, my heart would break!
FRAGMENT FROM THE “LAMENT FOR BION,” OF MOSCHUS
RAISE high, Sicilian Muses,
Raise high the mournful cry,
The mallows in the woodlands
Whene’er they fade and die,
And the dill, and the green parsley,
When they grow wan and sere,
Live on again, though dead a while,
And flower another year.
But we, the great, the noble men,
The mighty, and the wise,
Whene’er our term of life is past,
And our frail body dies,
Lie down for ever, evermore
Beneath earth’s hollow deep,
And undisturbed for ever
Lie low in death’s long sleep.