Explore "Giorno Dei Morti" by D.H. Lawrence on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
ALONG the avenue of cypresses / All in their scarlet cloaks, and surplices / Of linen go the chanting choristers, / The priests in gold and black, the villagers. .
And all along the path to the cemetery / The round dark heads of men crowd silently, / And black-scarved faces of women-folk, wistfully / Watch at the banner of death, and the mystery.
And at the foot of a grave a father stands / With sunken head, and forgotten, folded hands; / And at the foot of a grave a mother kneels / With pale shut face, nor either hears nor feels
The coming of the chanting choristers / Between the avenue of cypresses, / The silence of the many villagers, / The candle-flames beside the surplices.