Send some poetry to a friend - the love thought that counts!
 
Poems for the People   -  Poems by the People

Churchill's Grave
by Lord George Gordon Byron

English romantic poet and satirist. Principal works include Childe Harolde's Pilgrimage (1812-18), The Bride of Abydos, The Corsair and The Giaour (1813), Lara (1814), The Prisoner of Chillon (1816), Beppo (1817), Don Juan (1819), The Two Foscari (1821), Sardanapalus and Cain (1821), Werner, The Age of Bronze and The Island (1823). His letters and journals, many of them apparently written with an eye for publication are also considered to be part of his opus. Byron enjoyed a vast and durable reputation as a poet and his character, unconventional lifestyle and poetic style have synthesised to create the image of the Byronic hero.

Other romantic poets include Keats, Burns, Coleridge and Wordsworth.


Churchill's Grave
by Lord George Gordon Byron

I stood beside the grave of him who blazed
The comet of a season, and I saw
The humblest of all sepulchres, and gazed
With not the less of sorrow and of awe
On that neglected turf and quiet stone,
With name no clearer than the names unknown,
Which lay unread around it; and asked
The Gardener of that ground, why it might be
That for this plant strangers his memory tasked
Through the thick deaths of half a century;
And thus he answered -"Well, I do not know
Why frequent travellers turn to pilgrims so;
He died before my day of sextonship,
And I had not the digging of this grave."
And is this all? I thought, -and do we rip
The veil of Immortality? and crave
I know not what of honour and of light
Through unborn ages, to endure this blight?
So soon, and so successless? As I said,
The Architect of all on which we tread,
For Earth is but a tombstone, did essay
To extricate remembrance from the clay,
Whose minglings might confuse a Newton's thought,
Were it not that all life must end in one,
Of which we are but dreamers; -as he caught
As 'twere the twilight of a former Sun,
Thus spoke he, -"I believe the man of whom
You wot, who lies in this selected tomb,
Was a most famous writer in his day,
And therefore travellers step from out their way
To pay him honour, -and myself whate'er
Your honour pleases," -then most pleased I shook
From out my pocket's avaricious nook
Some certain coins of silver, which as 'twere
Perforce I gave this man, though I could spare
So much but inconveniently: -Ye smile,
I see ye, ye profane ones! all the while,
Because my homely phrase the truth would tell.
You are the fools, not I -for I did dwell
With a deep thought, and with a softened eye,
On that Old Sexton's natural homily,
In which there was Obscurity and Fame, -
The Glory and the Nothing of a Name.


pipHome | Top | All Poems | About | FAQ | Your Privacy | Contact Us

All poetry is copyright by the individual authors.
All other material on this web site, unless otherwise noted, is
Copyright 1998-2021 by Ron Carnell and Passions in Poetry.
- netpoets 2.9.1 -