Claribel: a Melody

Where Claribel low-lieth
   The breezes pause and die,
     Letting the rose-leaves fall:
 But the solemn oak-tree sigheth,
     Thick-leaved, 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 wild bee hummeth
   About the moss’d headstone:
 At midnight the moon cometh,
   And looketh down alone.
 Her song the lintwhite swelleth,
 The clear-voiced mavis dwelleth,
   The callow throstle lispeth,
 The slumbrous wave outwelleth,
   The babbling runnel crispeth,
 The hollow grot replieth
   Where Claribel low-lieth.
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