Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE FIRST GRAVE, by LETITIA ELIZABETH LANDON Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: A single grave! - the only one Last Line: Which sanctify the grave! Alternate Author Name(s): L. E. L.; Maclean, Letitia Subject(s): Graves; Tombs; Tombstones | ||||||||
A single grave! -- the only one In this unbroken ground, Where yet the garden leaf and flower Are lingering around. A single grave! -- my heart has felt How utterly alone In crowded halls, where breathed for me Not one familiar tone; The shade where forest trees shut out All but the distant sky; -- I've felt the loneliness of night When the dark winds pass'd by; My pulse was quicken'd with its awe, My lip has gasp'd for breath; But what were they to such as this -- The solitude of death! A single grave! -- we half forget How sunder human ties, When round the silent place of rest A gather'd kindred lies. We stand beneath the haunted yew, And watch each quiet tomb; And in the ancient churchyard feel Solemnity, not gloom. The place is purified with hope, The hope that is of prayer; And human love, and heavenward thought, And pious faith are there. The wild flowers spring amid the grass; And many a stone appears, Carved by affection's memory, Wet with affection's tears. The golden chord which binds us all Is loosed, not rent in twain; And love, and hope, and fear, unite To bring the past again. But this grave is so desolate, With no remembering stone, No fellow-graves for sympathy -- 'Tis utterly alone. I do not know who sleeps beneath, His history or name -- Whether if, lonely in his life, He is in death the same: Whether he died unloved, unmourn'd, The last leaf on the bough; Or, if some desolated hearth Is weeping for him now. Perhaps this is too fanciful: -- Though single be his sod, Yet not the less it has around The presence of his God. It may be weakness of the heart, But yet its kindliest, best: Better if in our selfish world It could be less represt. Those gentler charities which draw Man closer with his kind -- Those sweet humanities which make The music which they find. How many a bitter word 'twould hush -- How many a pang 'twould save, If life more precious held those ties Which sanctify the grave! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SURVIVOR AMONG GRAVES by RANDALL JARRELL SUBJECTED EARTH by ROBINSON JEFFERS THE GRAVE OF MRS. HEMANS by CECIL FRANCES ALEXANDER THOSE GRAVES IN ROME by LARRY LEVIS NOT TO BE DWELLED ON by HEATHER MCHUGH ONE LAST DRAW OF THE PIPE by PAUL MULDOON ETRUSCAN TOMB by JOHN FREDERICK NIMS ENDING WITH A LINE FROM LEAR by MARVIN BELL CALYPSO WATCHING THE OCEAN by LETITIA ELIZABETH LANDON |
|