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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=538084" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Two Graves</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Tis a bleak wild hill,--but green and bright<br>In the summer warmth and the mid-day light;<br>There's the hum of the bee and the chirp of the wren,<br>And the dash of the brook from the alder glen;<br>There's the sound of a bell from the scattered flock,<br>And the shade of the beech lies cool on the rock,<br>And fresh from the west is the free wind's breath,--<br>There is nothing here that speaks of death.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Far yonder, where orchards and gardens lie,<br>And dwellings cluster, 'tis there men die.<br>They are born, they die, and are buried near,<br>Where the populous grave-yard lightens the bier;<br>For strict and close are the ties that bind<br>In death the children of human-kind;<br>Yea, stricter and closer than those of life,--<br>'Tis a neighbourhood that knows no strife.<br>They are noiselessly gathered--friend and foe--<br>To the still and dark assemblies below:<br>Without a frown or a smile they meet,<br>Each pale and calm in his winding-sheet;<br>In that sullen home of peace and gloom,<br>Crowded, like guests in a banquet-room.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet there are graves in this lonely spot,<br>Two humble graves,--but I meet them not.<br>I have seen them,--eighteen years are past,<br>Since I found their place in the brambles last,--<br>The place where, fifty winters ago,<br>An aged man in his locks of snow,<br>And an aged matron, withered with years,<br>Were solemnly laid!--but not with tears.<br>For none, who sat by the light of their hearth,<br>Beheld their coffins covered with earth;<br>Their kindred were far, and their children dead,<br>When the funeral prayer was coldly said.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Two low green hillocks, two small gray stones,<br>Rose over the place that held their bones;<br>But the grassy hillocks are levelled again,<br>And the keenest eye might search in vain,<br>'Mong briers, and ferns, and paths of sheep,<br>For the spot where the aged couple sleep.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet well might they lay, beneath the soil<br>Of this lonely spot, that man of toil,<br>And trench the strong hard mould with the spade,<br>Where never before a grave was made;<br>For he hewed the dark old woods away,<br>And gave the virgin fields to the day;<br>And the gourd and the bean, beside his door,<br>Bloomed where their flowers ne'er opened before;<br>And the maize stood up; and the bearded rye<br>Bent low in the breath of an unknown sky.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Tis said that when life is ended here,<br>The spirit is borne to a distant sphere;<br>That it visits its earthly home no more,<br>Nor looks on the haunts it loved before.<br>But why should the bodiless soul be sent<br>Far off, to a long, long banishment?<br>Talk not of the light and the living green!<br>It will pine for the dear familiar scene;<br>It will yearn, in that strange bright world, to behold<br>The rock and the stream it knew of old.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Tis a cruel creed, believe it not!<br>Death to the good is a milder lot.<br>They are here,--they are here,--that harmless pair,<br>In the yellow sunshine and flowing air,<br>In the light cloud-shadows that slowly pass,<br>In the sounds that rise from the murmuring grass.<br>They sit where their humble cottage stood,<br>They walk by the waving edge of the wood,<br>And list to the long-accustomed flow<br>Of the brook that wets the rocks below.<br>Patient, and peaceful, and passionless,<br>As seasons on seasons swiftly press,<br>They watch, and wait, and linger around,<br>Till the day when their bodies shall leave the ground.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=William+Cullen+Bryant">William Cullen Bryant</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=538084" data-title="The Two Graves de William Cullen Bryant" data-description="'Tis a bleak wild hill,--but green and bright
In the summer warmth and the mid-day light;
There's the hum of the bee and the chirp of the wren,
And the dash of the brook from the alder glen;
There's the sound of a bell from the scattered flock,
An..."></div>
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