A Reverie

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A Reverie

Yon may speak of a grave in a distant land,

Or of one ’neath ocean’s foam,

Where the dolphins play o’er the sunny spray,

Far from the dear old home;

Where the coral peaks form a glorious tomb,

And the mighty waters lave,

But there is naught in the wide world sought

Like the heart’s deep anguished grave.

You may tell of a grave ’neath the burning sands

Of the tropics fevered zone;

Where silence reigns o’er the desert plains

So desolate, so forlorn.

Where the lion’s roar is the liveliest sound

That o’er that waste is heard⁠—

And the forest bird hymns a plaintive lay,

A requiem for the dead.

Again you may tell of a grave unsought

Far from the home of youth;

Where the willow weeps as the exile sleeps

Akin to Mother Earth.

But O! methinks, there’s not a woe

That can the bosom cleave,

Or as deeply wound, as the lowly mound

O’er the heart’s deep, anguished grave.