Melancholetta

In A Disused Graveyard

Hello,

A few weeks ago, I had sent this poem to a few of you. Melancholetta has taken birth and so deserves to have this entry in the archives. Ever since, I read this one, it has become one of my favourite poems.

Look at the mocking irony in the verses. Frost, I am sure, wrote this with a lot of bitterness in his mouth over some loss and the hypocrisy surrounding it all.

Stangenlord


In a Disused Graveyard

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.

-- Robert Frost

(Also visit this link in Armchair Realities, Stangenlord's blog for his write-up on the poem. -- Ed)

posted by Dileepan @ 6:29 PM