Poems (Schiller)/Lines, written in a graveyard

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LINES, WRITTEN IN A GRAVEYARD
Sunset has faded o'er the emerald earth, The purple twilight steals with her sweet calm;From out the distant town floats sounds of mirth, And nature's voices blend in evening psalm.
Myriads of insects hidden 'mongst the grass, Send ceaseless chirps from their untiring throats;Near by flit restless birds, and as they pass, The air resounds with their harmonious notes.
Close to this silent city stretch rich fields Of waving corn; beyond yon rustic fenceIs stacked the fragrant new-mown hay; earth yields Gifts rich and varied to regale each sense,
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On yon green hill the cattle idly graze, The low tinkle of their bells I hear;While, 'neath yon tree, where I in bygone days Have sat with one, than my own life more dear,
Reclines a maid with lover by her side, Oh! does she hear words passsionate and lowAs those I heard one happy eventide, As I sat there with one now "lying low?"
And will her love dream its fruition meet, Or will the bursting bud ne'er be a flower?Will all that makes life dear to her, and sweet, Be torn away in one brief, stormy hour?
Will her life's future, gleaming now so fair, With stately halls where love and joy preside,Fulfill its promise; or will it to her bear The robes of mourning, for the robes of bride?
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It may be; but an ardent prayer goes up From my young heart, so torn and pained,That to her lips God may not pass a cup Like to the one whose bitter dregs I've drained.
Let all her dreams be tranquil; haunted not By faded joys earth's powerless to restore;God grant to her a peaceful earthly lot, And guide her safely to the golden shore.July 30, 1869.
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