The Dead Village

Here there is death. But even here, they say,
Here where the dull sun shines this afternoon
As desolate as ever the dead moon
Did glimmer on dead Sardis, men were gay;
And there were little children here to play,
With small soft hands that once did keep in tune
The strings that stretch from heaven, till too soon
The change came, and the music passed away.

Now there is nothing but the ghosts of things,-
No life, no love, no children, and no men;
And over the forgotten place there clings
The strange and unrememberable light
That is in dreams. The music failed, and then
God frowned, and shut the village from His sight.

(1 votes, average: 5.00 out of 5)

Related poetry:

A Dead Friend I. Gone, O gentle heart and true, Friend of hopes foregone, Hopes and hopeful days with you Gone? Days of […]...

The dead babe Last night, as my dear babe lay dead, In agony I knelt and said: “0 God! what have I done, […]...

For a Dead Lady No more with overflowing light Shall fill the eyes that now are faded, Nor shall another’s fringe with night Their […]...

1914 IV: The Dead These hearts were woven of human joys and cares, Washed marvellously with sorrow, swift to mirth. The years had given […]...

Ghosts Some ghosts are women, Neither abstract nor pale, Their breasts as limp as killed fish. Not witches, but ghosts Who […]...

Sonnet 23 – Is it indeed so? If I lay here dead Is it indeed so? If I lay here dead, Wouldst thou miss any life in losing mine? And would the […]...

Dead Love Dead love, by treason slain, lies stark, White as a dead stark-stricken dove: None that pass by him pause to […]...

Ballad of Dead Friends As we the withered ferns By the roadway lying, Time, the jester, spurns All our prayers and prying All our […]...

Southern Mansion Poplars are standing there still as death And ghosts of dead men Meet their ladies walking Two by two beneath […]...

Death, To The Dead For Evermore DEATH, to the dead for evermore A King, a God, the last, the best of friends – Whene’er this mortal […]...

Dead man's clothes Growing up, I propose, Is like wearing a dead man’s clothes. Death has a way of levelling the ground. I […]...

Yes, the Dead Speak to Us YES, the Dead speak to us. This town belongs to the Dead, to the Dead and to the Wilderness. Back […]...

Memorial Day For The War Dead Memorial day for the war dead. Add now The grief of all your losses to their grief, Even of a […]...

The Village Blacksmith Under a spreading chestnut-tree The village smithy stands; The smith, a mighty man is he, With large and sinewy hands; […]...

A Dream Lies Dead A dream lies dead here. May you softly go Before this place, and turn away your eyes, Nor seek to […]...

The House Of Dust: Part 03: 06: Portrait Of One Dead This is the house. On one side there is darkness, On one side there is light. Into the darkness you […]...

When You See Millions Of The Mouthless Dead When you see millions of the mouthless dead Across your dreams in pale battalions go, Say not soft things as […]...

City Dead-House, The BY the City Dead-House, by the gate, As idly sauntering, wending my way from the clangor, I curious pause-for lo! […]...

Village Mystery The woman in the pointed hood And cloak blue-gray like a pigeon’s wing, Whose orchard climbs to the balsam-wood, Has […]...

Oh, Ye Dead! Oh, ye Dead! oh, ye Dead! whom we know by the light you give From your cold gleaming eyes, though […]...

If I may have it, when it's dead If I may have it, when it’s dead, I’ll be contented so If just as soon as Breath is out […]...

Queen Mab in the Village Once I loved a fairy, Queen Mab it was. Her voice Was like a little Fountain That bids the birds […]...

At leisure is the Soul At leisure is the Soul That gets a Staggering Blow The Width of Life before it spreads Without a thing […]...

Pensive on Her Dead Gazing, I Heard the Mother of All PENSIVE, on her dead gazing, I heard the Mother of All, Desperate, on the torn bodies, on the forms covering […]...

The City of the Dead XX Yesterday I drew myself from the noisome throngs and proceeded into the field until I reached a knoll upon which […]...

Dead Musicians I From you, Beethoven, Bach, Mozart, The substance of my dreams took fire. You built cathedrals in my heart, And […]...

Service of all the Dead Between the avenues of cypresses, All in their scarlet cloaks, and surplices Of linen, go the chaunting choristers, The priests […]...

Deborah's Parrot, a Village Tale ‘Twas in a little western town An ancient Maiden dwelt: Her name was MISS, or MISTRESS, Brown, Or DEBORAH, or […]...

Three Ghosts THREE tailors of Tooley Street wrote: We, the People. The names are forgotten. It is a joke in ghosts. Cutters […]...

The Dead Heart After I wrote this, a friend scrawled on this page, “Yes.” And I said, merely to myself, “I wish it […]...

To a Dead Man Over the dead line we have called to you To come across with a word to us, Some beaten whisper […]...

I never hear that one is dead I never hear that one is dead Without the chance of Life Afresh annihilating me That mightiest Belief, Too mighty […]...

Sonnet 71: No longer mourn for me when I am dead No longer mourn for me when I am dead Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell Give warning to […]...

Lines Written In The Belief That The Ancient Roman Festival Of The Dead Was Called Ambarvalia Swings the way still by hollow and hill, And all the world’s a song; “She’s far,” it sings me, “but […]...

Dead thoughts of corpses The symbols that we use are T shirts of the dead Thoughts of corpses without heads, a rictus Without sound […]...

I Stood With the Dead I Stood with the Dead, so forsaken and still: When dawn was grey I stood with the Dead. And my […]...

The Song of the Dead Hear now the Song of the Dead in the North by the torn berg-edges They that look still to the […]...

Spirits Of The Dead Thy soul shall find itself alone ‘Mid dark thoughts of the grey tomb-stone; Not one, of all the crowd, to […]...

Grieg Being Dead GRIEG being dead we may speak of him and his art. Grieg being dead we can talk about whether he […]...

Walt Whitman The master-songs are ended, and the man That sang them is a name. And so is God A name; and […]...