Nadowessian Death-Lament

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A Funeral Phantasy
King Francis
Nadowessian Death-Lament
Round the sun
The Ring of Polycrates
The Secret
The Inn of the Five Chimneys
The Tunnel
The Battle of Gettysburg
Hymn of Pan
Bird thou
May morning
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he sitteth on his mat,
Sitteth there upright With the grace with which he sat
While he saw the light.
Birkenstock Sandals
Where is now the sturdy gripe,--
Where the breath sedate,
That so lately whiff'd the pipe
Tow'rd the Spirit Great? Danze Faucets
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Where the bright and falcon eye,
That the reindeer's tread
On the waving grass could spy,
Thich with dew-drops spread? Nursemate Shoes
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Where the limbs that used to dart Swifter through the snow
Than the twenty-member'd hart
Than the mountain roe?
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Where the arm that sturdily
Bent the deadly bow?
See, its life hath fleeted by,
See, it hangeth low! Happy he! -- He now has gone
Where no snow is found:
Where with maize the fields are sown, Self-sprung from the ground;
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Where with birds each bush is fill'd,
Where with game the wood;
Where the fish, with joy instill'd, Wanton in the flood.
With the spirits blest he feeds,--
Leaves us here in gloom;
We can only praise his deeds, And his corpse entomb.
Farewell-gifts, then, hither bring, Sound the death-note sad!
Bury with him ev'rything That can make him glad.
'Neath his head the hatchet hide
That he boldly swung; And the bear's fat haunch beside,
For the road is long;
And the knife, well sharpened
That, with slashes three,
Scalp and skin from foeman's head
Tore off skilfully.
Dyes within his hand;
Let him shine with ruddy grace
In the Spirit-Land!