Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809–1892)

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.