These ants that creep and crawl?...
Bereft of man and nature,
My life is stripped of all!

"And I, an ancient orphan,
What do I here alone?
My friends have all departed,
My youth and glory gone.

"Oh, tear me, root and branches!
No longer let me be
A living head-stone, brooding
O'er the grave of liberty."




The Cemetery Nightingale


In the hills' embraces holden,
In a valley filled with glooms,
Lies a cemetery olden,
Strewn with countless mould'ring tombs.

Ancient graves o'erhung with mosses,
Crumbling stones, effaced and green,--
Venturesome is he who crosses,
Night or day, the lonely scene.