Here Sleeps The Bard

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Title:     Here Sleeps The Bard
Author: Thomas Moore [More Titles by Moore]

(HIGHLAND AIR.)

Here sleeps the Bard who knew so well
All the sweet windings of Apollo's shell;
Whether its music rolled like torrents near.
Or died, like distant streamlets, on the ear.
Sleep, sleep, mute bard; alike unheeded now
The storm and zephyr sweep thy lifeless brow;--
That storm, whose rush is like thy martial lay;
That breeze which, like thy love-song, dies away!

[The end]
Thomas Moore's poem: Here Sleeps The Bard

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