Explore "The Funeral Bell" by Henry David Thoreau on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
One more is gone / Out of the busy throng / That tread these paths;
The church-bell tolls, / Its sad knell rolls / To many hearths.
Flower-bells toll not, / Their echoes roll not / Upon my ear;
There still perchance / That gentle spirit haunts / A fragrant bier.
Low lies the pall, / Lowly the mourners all / Their passage grope;
No sable hue / Mars the serene blue / Of heaven's cope.
In distant dell / Faint sounds the funeral bell;
A heavenly chime;
Some poet there / Weaves the light-burthened air / Into sweet rhyme.