Happy song-sparrow, that on woodland side
Or by the meadow sits, and ceaseless sings
His mellow roundelay in russet pride,
Owning no care between his wings.
He has no tax to pay, nor work to do:
His round of life is ever a pleasant one;
For they are merry that may naught but woo
From yellow dawn till set of sun.
The...
Lo! through a shadowy valley
March with measured step and tread
A long array of Phantoms wan
And pallid as the dead,—
The white and waxen dead!
With a crown on every head,
And a torch in every hand
To fright the sheeted ghosts away
That guard its portals night and day,
They seek the Shadow-Land...
