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POEMS

POEMS.

CLARIBEL.

Where Claribel low-lieth
The breezes pause and die,
Letting the rose-leaves fall:
But the solemn oak-tree sigheth,
Thick-leaved, ambrosial,
With an ancient melody
Of an inward agony,
Where Claribel low-lieth.

At eve the beetle boometh
Athwart the thicket lone:

At noon the wild bee hummeth
About the mossed headstone:

At midnight the moon cometh

And looketh down alone. Her song the lintwhite swelleth, The clear-voiced mavis dwelleth, The fledgling throstle lispeth, The slumbrous wave outwelleth, The babbling runnel crispeth, The hollow grot replieth Where Claribel low-lieth.

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