The living come with grassy tread To read the gravestones on the hill; The graveyard draws the living still, But never anymore the dead. The verses in it say and say: "The ones who living come today To read the stones and go away Tomorrow dead will come to stay." So sure of death the marbles rhyme, Yet can't help marking all the time How no one dead will seem to come. What is it men are shrinking from? It would be easy to be clever And tell the stones: Men hate to die And have stopped dying now forever. I think they would believe the lie.
Hush-a-by lady, in Alice's lap! Till the feast's ready, we've time for a nap. When the feast's over, we'll go to the ball-- Red Queen, and White Queen, and Alice, and all!
Through the looking glass Lewis Carroll (1832-1898)
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Am Abend tönen die herbstlichen Wälder Von tödlichen Waffen, die goldnen Ebenen Und blauen Seen, darüber die Sonne Drüster hinrollt: umfängt die Nacht Sterbende Krieger, die wilde Klage Ihrer zerbrochenen Münder.
Doch stille sammelt im Weidengrund Rotes Gewölk, darin ein zürnender Gott wohnt, Das vergossne Blut sich, mondne Kühle; Alle Straßen münden in schwarze Verwesung.
Unter goldnem Gezweig der Nacht und Sternen Es schwankt der Schwester Schatten durch den schweigenden Hain, Zu grüßen die Geister der helden, die blutenden Häupter; Und leise tönen im Rohr die dunklen Flöten des Herbstes.
O stolzere trauer! ihr ehernen Altäre, die heiße Flamme des Geistes nährt heute ein gewaltiger Schmerz Die ungebornen Enkel.
