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Article ON SEEING A PEACOCK PERCHED ON A TOMBSTONE IN HADDINGTON CHURCHYARD. Page 1 of 1 Article THE INVITATION. Page 1 of 1
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
On Seeing A Peacock Perched On A Tombstone In Haddington Churchyard.
ON SEEING A PEACOCK PERCHED ON A TOMBSTONE IN HADDINGTON CHURCHYARD .
BY BROTHER G . TAIT . Vain , gaudy thing , why crest thy plumage there , As if in mockery of the silent dead ? It ill becomes thy beauty , to be where Men ' s bones lie mouldering in a loathsome bed . 'Twere fitter that thy pride and pomp should be
Display'd where lightsome hearts may well admire—And eyes ne ' er dimm'd by tears , might wondering see Thy nature's loveliness . —Strange thoughts inspire The mind , amidst a scene so sad a . s this ; The mansion of a thousand hearts , now still And motionless—no soothing sign of bliss Can here be gather'd—likely to fulfil
The promise made by Him who cannot lie , — For all is death and dull corruption here , All , save the worm—and other things that vie In gloomy sadness round the dead man ' s bier . Thou art , in this lone " city of the dead , " The only living thing the eye can trace , Amidst the grave-stones and the graves , —beside
Thee , there is none to fill the place Of life and gladness—streaming far and wide O ' er nature—all around , on every side , Where mortals to the grave still onward glide .
The Invitation.
THE INVITATION .
My heart with love is glowing , Wilt thou roam with me To the mountain free ? And our home shall he Where the heath-bell so sweetly is blowing . Time my faith ne ' er shall sever ,
But my heart shall be As unchanged to thee As old constancy , And its pulse beat for thee , love , for ever .
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
On Seeing A Peacock Perched On A Tombstone In Haddington Churchyard.
ON SEEING A PEACOCK PERCHED ON A TOMBSTONE IN HADDINGTON CHURCHYARD .
BY BROTHER G . TAIT . Vain , gaudy thing , why crest thy plumage there , As if in mockery of the silent dead ? It ill becomes thy beauty , to be where Men ' s bones lie mouldering in a loathsome bed . 'Twere fitter that thy pride and pomp should be
Display'd where lightsome hearts may well admire—And eyes ne ' er dimm'd by tears , might wondering see Thy nature's loveliness . —Strange thoughts inspire The mind , amidst a scene so sad a . s this ; The mansion of a thousand hearts , now still And motionless—no soothing sign of bliss Can here be gather'd—likely to fulfil
The promise made by Him who cannot lie , — For all is death and dull corruption here , All , save the worm—and other things that vie In gloomy sadness round the dead man ' s bier . Thou art , in this lone " city of the dead , " The only living thing the eye can trace , Amidst the grave-stones and the graves , —beside
Thee , there is none to fill the place Of life and gladness—streaming far and wide O ' er nature—all around , on every side , Where mortals to the grave still onward glide .
The Invitation.
THE INVITATION .
My heart with love is glowing , Wilt thou roam with me To the mountain free ? And our home shall he Where the heath-bell so sweetly is blowing . Time my faith ne ' er shall sever ,
But my heart shall be As unchanged to thee As old constancy , And its pulse beat for thee , love , for ever .