From The Grave
By Robert Blair
Dull Grave!—thou spoil'st the dance of youthful blood,
Strik'st out the dimple from the cheek of mirth,
And every smirking feature from the face;
Branding our laughter with the name of madness.
Where are the jesters now? the men of health
Complexionally pleasant? Where the droll,
Whose every look and gesture was a joke
To clapping theatres and shouting crowds,
And made even thick-lipp'd musing
Melancholy
To gather up her face into a smile
Before she was aware? Ah! sullen now,
And dumb as the green turf that covers them.
What if it wasn't a dull grave? Would that be better?
ReplyDeleteIt kind of reminds me of Yorick for some reason.
What does exactly mean in "ah! Sullen now, and dumb as the green turf that covers them.
ReplyDelete