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Gravburn

The poet visits the grave of Robert Burns in Scotland seven years after his death. He expresses sadness at standing so close to Burns' remains, yet being unable to see or interact with him. The poet reflects on Burns' talent and genius that shone so brightly despite his humble origins. He mourns Burns' death along with thousands of others, as Burns was one who showed the poet as a youth how poetry could be used to honor humble truths. The poet laments that he and Burns, though differently inclined, could have been good friends had Burns lived nearer. He wipes away a tear at the thought of talking with Burns among the flowers and heather near his grave.

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Parvez Ahamed
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34 views2 pages

Gravburn

The poet visits the grave of Robert Burns in Scotland seven years after his death. He expresses sadness at standing so close to Burns' remains, yet being unable to see or interact with him. The poet reflects on Burns' talent and genius that shone so brightly despite his humble origins. He mourns Burns' death along with thousands of others, as Burns was one who showed the poet as a youth how poetry could be used to honor humble truths. The poet laments that he and Burns, though differently inclined, could have been good friends had Burns lived nearer. He wipes away a tear at the thought of talking with Burns among the flowers and heather near his grave.

Uploaded by

Parvez Ahamed
Copyright
© Attribution Non-Commercial (BY-NC)
We take content rights seriously. If you suspect this is your content, claim it here.
Available Formats
Download as DOC, PDF, TXT or read online on Scribd
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MEMORIALS OF A TOUR IN SCOTLAND, 1803

II. AT THE GRAVE OF BURNS, 1803


SEVEN YEARS AFTER HIS DEATH
William Wordsworth

I SHIVER, Spirit fierce and bold,


At thought of what I now behold:
As vapours breathed from dungeons cold,
Strike pleasure dead,
So sadness comes from out the mould
Where Burns is laid.

And have I then thy bones so near,


And thou forbidden to appear?
As if it were thyself that's here
I shrink with pain; 10
And both my wishes and my fear
Alike are vain.

Off weight--nor press on weight!--away


Dark thoughts!--they came, but not to stay;
With chastened feelings would I pay
The tribute due
To him, and aught that hides his clay
From mortal view.

Fresh as the flower, whose modest worth


He sang, his genius "glinted" forth, 20
Rose like a star that touching earth,
For so it seems,
Doth glorify its humble birth
With matchless beams.

The piercing eye, the thoughtful brow,


The struggling heart, where be they now?--
Full soon the Aspirant of the plough,
The prompt, the brave,
Slept, with the obscurest, in the low
And silent grave. 30

I mourned with thousands, but as one


More deeply grieved, for He was gone
Whose light I hailed when first it shone,
And showed my youth
How Verse may build a princely throne
On humble truth.

Alas! where'er the current tends,


Regret pursues and with it blends,--
Huge Criffel's hoary top ascends
By Skiddaw seen,-- 40
Neighbours we were, and loving friends
We might have been;

True friends though diversely inclined;


But heart with heart and mind with mind,
Where the main fibres are entwined,
Through Nature's skill,
May even by contraries be joined
More closely still.

The tear will start, and let it flow;


Thou "poor Inhabitant below," 50
At this dread moment--even so--
Might we together
Have sate and talked where gowans blow,
Or on wild heather.

What treasures would have then been placed


Within my reach; of knowledge graced
By fancy what a rich repast!
But why go on?--
Oh! spare to sweep, thou mournful blast,
His grave grass-grown. 60

There, too, a Son, his joy and pride,


(Not three weeks past the Stripling died,)
Lies gathered to his Father's side,
Soul-moving sight!
Yet one to which is not denied
Some sad delight:

For 'he' is safe, a quiet bed


Hath early found among the dead,
Harboured where none can be misled,
Wronged, or distrest; 70
And surely here it may be said
That such are blest.

And oh for Thee, by pitying grace


Checked oft-times in a devious race,
May He who halloweth the place
Where Man is laid
Receive thy Spirit in the embrace
For which it prayed!

Sighing I turned away; but ere


Night fell I heard, or seemed to hear, 80
Music that sorrow comes not near,
A ritual hymn,
Chaunted in love that casts out fear
By Seraphim.

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