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.