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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=393302" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Funeral Fantasie</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Pale, at its ghastly noon,<br> Pauses above the death-still wood--the moon;<br> The night-sprite, sighing, through the dim air stirs;<br> The clouds descend in rain;<br> Mourning, the wan stars wane,<br> Flickering like dying lamps in sepulchres!<br> Haggard as spectres--vision-like and dumb,<br> Dark with the pomp of death, and moving slow,<br> Towards that sad lair the pale procession come<br> Where the grave closes on the night below.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> With dim, deep-sunken eye,<br> Crutched on his staff, who trembles tottering by?<br> As wrung from out the shattered heart, one groan<br> Breaks the deep hush alone!<br> Crushed by the iron fate, he seems to gather<br> All life's last strength to stagger to the bier,<br> And hearken--Do these cold lips murmur &quot;Father?&quot;<br> The sharp rain, drizzling through that place of fear,<br> Pierces the bones gnawed fleshless by despair,<br> And the heart's horror stirs the silver hair.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Fresh bleed the fiery wounds<br> Through all that agonizing heart undone--<br> Still on the voiceless lips &quot;my Father&quot; sounds,<br> And still the childless Father murmurs &quot;Son!&quot;<br> Ice-cold--ice-cold, in that white shroud he lies--<br> Thy sweet and golden dreams all vanished there--<br> The sweet and golden name of &quot;Father&quot; dies<br> Into thy curse,--ice-cold--ice-cold--he lies!<br> Dead, what thy life's delight and Eden were!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Mild, as when, fresh from the arms of Aurora,<br> While the air like Elysium is smiling above,<br> Steeped in rose-breathing odors, the darling of Flora<br> Wantons over the blooms on his winglets of love.<br> So gay, o'er the meads, went his footsteps in bliss,<br> The silver wave mirrored the smile of his face;<br> Delight, like a flame, kindled up at his kiss,<br> And the heart of the maid was the prey of his chase.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Boldly he sprang to the strife of the world,<br> As a deer to the mountain-top carelessly springs;<br> As an eagle whose plumes to the sun are unfurled,<br> Swept his hope round the heaven on its limitless wings.<br> Proud as a war-horse that chafes at the rein,<br> That, kingly, exults in the storm of the brave;<br> That throws to the wind the wild stream of its mane,<br> Strode he forth by the prince and the slave!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Life like a spring day, serene and divine,<br> In the star of the morning went by as a trance;<br> His murmurs he drowned in the gold of the wine,<br> And his sorrows were borne on the wave of the dance.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Worlds lay concealed in the hopes of his youth!--<br> When once he shall ripen to manhood and fame!<br> Fond father exult!--In the germs of his youth<br> What harvests are destined for manhood and fame!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Not to be was that manhood!--The death-bell is knelling,<br> The hinge of the death-vault creaks harsh on the ears--<br> How dismal, O Death, is the place of thy dwelling!<br> Not to be was that manhood!--Flow on, bitter tears!<br> Go, beloved, thy path to the sun,<br> Rise, world upon world, with the perfect to rest;<br> Go--quaff the delight which thy spirit has won,<br> And escape from our grief in the Halls of the Blest.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Again (in that thought what a healing is found!)<br> To meet in the Eden to which thou art fled!--<br> Hark, the coffin sinks down with a dull, sullen sound,<br> And the ropes rattle over the sleep of the dead.<br> And we cling to each other!--O Grave, he is thine!<br> The eye tells the woe that is mute to the ears--<br> And we dare to resent what we grudge to resign,<br> Till the heart's sinful murmur is choked in its tears.<br> Pale at its ghastly noon,<br> Pauses above the death-still wood--the moon!<br> The night-sprite, sighing, through the dim air stirs:<br> The clouds descend in rain;<br> Mourning, the wan stars wane,<br> Flickering like dying lamps in sepulchres.<br> The dull clods swell into the sullen mound;<br> Earth, one look yet upon the prey we gave!<br> The grave locks up the treasure it has found;<br> Higher and higher swells the sullen mound--<br> Never gives back the grave!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Friedrich+Schiller">Friedrich Schiller</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=393302" data-title="A Funeral Fantasie de Friedrich Schiller" data-description="Pale, at its ghastly noon,
 Pauses above the death-still wood--the moon;
 The night-sprite, sighing, through the dim air stirs;
 The clouds descend in rain;
 Mourning, the wan stars wane,
 Flickering like dying lamps in sepulchres!
 Haggard as spe..."></div>
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