Birket Foster's pictures of English landscape . 26 XXVII. THE VILLAGE CHURCH-YARD. Narrow the bounds of village life and death :The infants cradle, and the elders graveSo near, it seems that those who sleep beneath,And those who play where churchyard grasses wave,Must almost breathe alike the limes sweet breath,And hear the daws clamour round tower and nave. The city churchyard is a ghastly place,High heaped in festering mould, with nettles rankThat clutch and choke in venomous embraceThe tombstones falln awry, and greening dank;Girt by mean houses grudging its foul space,And walls that bulge
Birket Foster's pictures of English landscape . 26 XXVII. THE VILLAGE CHURCH-YARD. Narrow the bounds of village life and death :The infants cradle, and the elders graveSo near, it seems that those who sleep beneath,And those who play where churchyard grasses wave,Must almost breathe alike the limes sweet breath,And hear the daws clamour round tower and nave. The city churchyard is a ghastly place,High heaped in festering mould, with nettles rankThat clutch and choke in venomous embraceThe tombstones falln awry, and greening dank;Girt by mean houses grudging its foul space,And walls that bulge from its oerladen flank. Far other is the village vale of rest, With its green leaves, and mounds, and tomb-stones grey,Nibbled by grazing sheep, or lightly prestBy feet of happy schoolboys in their play ;The Sunday place for youth to greet and jest,And age to bask and muse on lifes decay. Such should Gods-acre be. From the lych-gate I hear the bees about their fragrant toil Among the limes : round the dim dial-plate Of the grey tower the daws
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Keywords: ., bookauthordalzielgeorge18151902, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1860
