Claribel : A Melody
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.  
Alfred Lord Tennyson (1809-1892)