English poem
O Ye Voices Gone!
by Mrs. Hemans
O ye voices gone! Sounds of other years! Hush that haunting tone, Melt me not to tears! All around forget, All who loved you well; Yet, sweet voices! yet O’er my soul ye swell. With the winds of spring, With the breath of flowers, Floating back, ye bring Thoughts of vanished hours. Hence your music take, O ye voices gone! This lonely heart ye make But more deeply lone.
BY A MOUNTAIN-STREAM AT REST.
By a mountain-stream at rest, We found the warrior lying, And around his noble breast A banner clasp’d in dying: Dark and still Was every hill, And the winds of night were sighing.
Last of his noble race To a lonely bed we bore him-- ’Twas a green, still, solemn place. Where the mountain-heath waves o’er him, Woods alone Seem to moan, Wild streams to deplore him.
Yet, from festive hall and lay Our sad thoughts oft are flying To those dark hills far away, Where in death we found him lying; On his breast A banner press’d, And the night-wind o’er him sighing.