Claribel

Where Claribel low-lieth

The breezes pause and die,

Letting the roseleaves fall:

But the solemn oaktree sigheth,

Thickleaved, ambrosial,

With an ancient melody

Of an inward agony,

Where Claribel low-lieth.

At eve the beetle boometh

Athwart the thicket lone:

At noon the bee low-hummeth

About the mossed headstone:

At midnight the moon cometh,

And looketh down alone.

Her song the lintwhite swelleth,

The clearvoiced mavis dwelleth,

The fledgling throstle lispeth,

The slumbrous wave outwelleth,

The babbling runnel crispeth,

The hollow grot replieth

Where Claribel low-lieth.