Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=512875" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Three Graves. A Fragment Of A Sexton's Tale</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The grapes upon the Vicar's wall<br>Were ripe as ripe could be;<br>And yellow leaves in sun and wind<br>Were falling from the tree.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">On the hedge-elms in the narrow lane<br>Still swung the spikes of corn:<br>Dear Lord! it seems but yesterday--<br>Young Edward's marriage-morn.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Up through that wood behind the church,<br>There leads from Edward's door<br>A mossy track, all over boughed,<br>For half a mile or more.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And from their house-door by that track<br>The bride and bridegroom went;<br>Sweet Mary, though she was not gay,<br>Seemed cheerful and content.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But when they to the church-yard came,<br>I've heard poor Mary say,<br>As soon as she stepped into the sun,<br>Her heart it died away.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And when the Vicar join'd their hands,<br>Her limbs did creep and freeze;<br>But when they prayed, she thought she saw<br>Her mother on her knees.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And o'er the church-path they returned--<br>I saw poor Mary's back,<br>Just as she stepped beneath the boughs<br>Into the mossy track.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Her feet upon the mossy track<br>The married maiden set:<br>That moment--I have heard her say--<br>She wished she could forget.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The shade o'er-flushed her limbs with heat--<br>Then came a chill like death:<br>And when the merry bells rang out,<br>They seemed to stop her breath.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Beneath the foulest mother's curse<br>No child could ever thrive:<br>A mother is a mother still,<br>The holiest thing alive.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So five months passed: the mother still<br>Would never heal the strife;<br>But Edward was a loving man,<br>And Mary a fond wife.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'My sister may not visit us,<br>My mother says her nay:<br>O Edward! you are all to me,<br>I wish for your sake I could be<br>More lifesome and more gay.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'I'm dull and sad! indeed, indeed<br>I know I have no reason!<br>Perhaps I am not well in health,<br>And 'tis a gloomy season.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Twas a drizzly time--no ice, no snow!<br>And on the few fine days<br>She stirred not out, lest she might meet<br>Her mother in the ways.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But Ellen, spite of miry ways<br>And weather dark and dreary,<br>Trudged every day to Edward's house,<br>And made them all more cheery.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh! Ellen was a faithful friend,<br>More dear than any sister!<br>As cheerful too as singing lark;<br>And she ne'er left them till 'twas dark,<br>And then they always missed her.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And now Ash-Wednesday came-that day<br>But few to church repair:<br>For on that day you know we read<br>The Commination prayer.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Our late old Vicar, a kind man,<br>Once, Sir, he said to me,<br>He wished that service was clean out<br>Of our good Liturgy.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The mother walked into the church--<br>To Ellen's seat she went:<br>Though Ellen always kept her church<br>All church-days during Lent.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And gentle Ellen welcomed her<br>With courteous looks and mild:<br>Thought she, 'What if her heart should melt,<br>And all be reconciled!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The day was scarcely like a day--<br>The clouds were black outright:<br>And many a night, with half a moon,<br>I've seen the church more light.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The wind was wild; against the glass<br>The rain did beat and bicker;<br>The church-tower swinging over head,<br>You scarce could hear the Vicar!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And then and there the mother knelt,<br>And audibly she cried-<br>'Oh! may a clinging curse consume<br>This woman by my side!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'O hear me, hear me, Lord in Heaven,<br>Although you take my life--<br>O curse this woman, at whose house<br>Young Edward woo'd his wife.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'By night and day, in bed and bower,<br>O let her cursed be!!! '<br>So having prayed, steady and slow,<br>She rose up from her knee!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And left the church, nor e'er again<br>The church-door entered she.<br>I saw poor Ellen kneeling still,<br>So pale! I guessed not why:<br>When she stood up, there plainly was<br>A trouble in her eye.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And when the prayers were done, we all<br>Came round and asked her why:<br>Giddy she seemed, and sure, there was<br>A trouble in her eye.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But ere she from the church-door stepped<br>She smiled and told us why:<br>'It was a wicked woman's curse,'<br>Quoth she, 'and what care I?'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She smiled, and smiled, and passed it off<br>Ere from the door she stept--<br>But all agree it would have been<br>Much better had she wept.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And if her heart was not at ease,<br>This was her constant cry--<br>'It was a wicked woman's curse--<br>God's good, and what care I?'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There was a hurry in her looks,<br>Her struggles she redoubled:<br>'It was a wicked woman's curse,<br>And why should I be troubled?'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">These tears will come--I dandled her<br>When 'twas the merest fairy--<br>Good creature! and she hid it all:<br>She told it not to Mary.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But Mary heard the tale: her arms<br>Round Ellen's neck she threw;<br>'O Ellen, Ellen, she cursed me,<br>And now she hath cursed you!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I saw young Edward by himself<br>Stalk fast adown the lee,<br>He snatched a stick from every fence,<br>A twig from every tree.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He snapped them still with hand or knee,<br>And then away they flew!<br>As if with his uneasy limbs<br>He knew not what to do!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">You see, good Sir! that single hill?<br>His farm lies underneath:<br>He heard it there, he heard it all,<br>And only gnashed his teeth.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now Ellen was a darling love<br>In all his joys and cares:<br>And Ellen's name and Mary's name<br>Fast-linked they both together came,<br>Whene'er he said his prayers.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And in the moment of his prayers<br>He loved them both alike:<br>Yea, both sweet names with one sweet joy<br>Upon his heart did strike!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He reach'd his home, and by his looks<br>They saw his inward strife:<br>And they clung round him with their arms,<br>Both Ellen and his wife.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And Mary could not check her tears,<br>So on his breast she bowed;<br>Then frenzy melted into grief,<br>And Edward wept aloud.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Dear Ellen did not weep at all,<br>But closelier did she cling,<br>And turned her face and looked as if<br>She saw some frightful thing.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">PART II.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">To see a man tread over graves<br>I hold it no good mark;<br>'Tis wicked in the sun and moon,<br>And bad luck in the dark!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">You see that grave? The Lord he gives,<br>The Lord, he takes away:<br>O Sir! the child of my old age<br>Lies there as cold as clay.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Except that grave, you scarce see one<br>That was not dug by me;<br>I'd rather dance upon 'em all<br>Than tread upon these three!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Aye, Sexton!'tis a touching tale.'<br>You, Sir! are but a lad;<br>This month I'm in my seventieth year,<br>And still it makes me sad.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And Mary's sister told it me,<br>For three good hours and more;<br>Though I had heard it, in the main,<br>From Edward's self, before.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Well! it passed off! the gentle Ellen<br>Did well nigh dote on Mary;<br>And she went oftener than before,<br>And Mary loved her more and more:<br>She managed all the dairy.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">To market she on market-days,<br>To church on Sundays came;<br>All seemed the same: all seemed so, Sir!<br>But all was not the same!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Had Ellen lost her mirth? Oh! no!<br>But she was seldom cheerful;<br>And Edward look'd as if he thought<br>That Ellen's mirth was fearful.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When by herself, she to herself<br>Must sing some merry rhyme;<br>She could not now be glad for hours,<br>Yet silent all the time.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And when she soothed her friend, through all<br>Her soothing words 'twas plain<br>She had a sore grief of her own,<br>A haunting in her brain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And oft she said, I'm not grown thin!<br>And then her wrist she spanned;<br>And once when Mary was down-cast,<br>She took her by the hand,<br>And gazed upon her, and at first<br>She gently pressed her hand;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then harder, till her grasp at length<br>Did gripe like a convulsion!<br>'Alas!' said she, 'we ne'er can be<br>Made happy by compulsion!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And once her both arms suddenly<br>Round Mary's neck she flung,<br>And her heart panted, and she felt<br>The words upon her tongue.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She felt them coming, but no power<br>Had she the words to smother;<br>And with a kind of shriek she cried,<br>'Oh Christ! you're like your mother!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So gentle Ellen now no more<br>Could make this sad house cheery;<br>And Mary's melancholy ways<br>Drove Edward wild and weary.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Lingering he raised his latch at eve,<br>Though tired in heart and limb:<br>He loved no other place, and yet<br>Home was no home to him.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">One evening he took up a book,<br>And nothing in it read;<br>Then flung it down, and groaning cried,<br>'O! Heaven! that I were dead.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Mary looked up into his face,<br>And nothing to him said;<br>She tried to smile, and on his arm<br>Mournfully leaned her head.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And he burst into tears, and fell<br>Upon his knees in prayer:<br>'Her heart is broke! O God! my grief,<br>It is too great to bear!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Twas such a foggy time as makes<br>Old sextons, Sir! like me,<br>Rest on their spades to cough; the spring<br>Was late uncommonly.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And then the hot days, all at once,<br>They came, we knew not how:<br>You looked about for shade, when scarce<br>A leaf was on a bough.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It happened then ('twas in the bower,<br>A furlong up the wood:<br>Perhaps you know the place, and yet<br>I scarce know how you should,)</div><div style="margin:10px 0">No path leads thither, 'tis not nigh<br>To any pasture-plot;<br>But clustered near the chattering brook,<br>Lone hollies marked the spot.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Those hollies of themselves a shape<br>As of an arbour took,<br>A close, round arbour; and it stands<br>Not three strides from a brook.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Within this arbour, which was still<br>With scarlet berries hung,<br>Were these three friends, one Sunday morn,<br>Just as the first bell rung.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Tis sweet to hear a brook, 'tis sweet<br>To hear the Sabbath-bell,<br>'Tis sweet to hear them both at once,<br>Deep in a woody dell.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">His limbs along the moss, his head<br>Upon a mossy heap,<br>With shut-up senses, Edward lay:<br>That brook e'en on a working day<br>Might chatter one to sleep.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And he had passed a restless night,<br>And was not well in health;<br>The women sat down by his side,<br>And talked as 'twere by stealth.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'The Sun peeps through the close thick leaves,<br>See, dearest Ellen! see!<br>'Tis in the leaves, a little sun,<br>No bigger than your ee;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'A tiny sun, and it has got<br>A perfect glory too;<br>Ten thousand threads and hairs of light,<br>Make up a glory gay and bright<br>Round that small orb, so blue.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And then they argued of those rays,<br>What colour they might be;<br>Says this, 'They're mostly green'; says that,<br>'They're amber-like to me.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So they sat chatting, while bad thoughts<br>Were troubling Edward's rest;<br>But soon they heard his hard quick pants,<br>And the thumping in his breast.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'A mother too!' these self-same words<br>Did Edward mutter plain;<br>His face was drawn back on itself,<br>With horror and huge pain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Both groan'd at once, for both knew well<br>What thoughts were in his mind;<br>When he waked up, and stared like one<br>That hath been just struck blind.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He sat upright; and ere the dream<br>Had had time to depart,<br>'O God, forgive me!' (he exclaimed)<br>'I have torn out her heart.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then Ellen shrieked, and forthwith burst<br>Into ungentle laughter;<br>And Mary shivered, where she sat,<br>And never she smiled after.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Carmen reliquum in futurum tempus relegatum. To-morrow! and To-morrow! and To-morrow!----</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Samuel+Taylor+Coleridge">Samuel Taylor Coleridge</a><div class=q>
<img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share">
<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=512875" data-title="The Three Graves. A Fragment Of A Sexton's Tale de Samuel Taylor Coleridge" data-description="The grapes upon the Vicar's wall
Were ripe as ripe could be;
And yellow leaves in sun and wind
Were falling from the tree.

On the hedge-elms in the narrow lane
Still swung the spikes of corn:
Dear Lord! it seems but yesterday--
Young Edward's mar..."></div>
</div>
</div>