THE swallow leaves her nest, <br />The soul my weary breast; <br />But therefore let the rain <br />On my grave <br />Fall pure; for why complain? <br />Since both will come again <br />O'er the wave. <br /> <br />The wind dead leaves and snow <br />Doth hurry to and fro; <br />And, once, a day shall break <br />O'er the wave, <br />When a storm of ghosts shall shake <br />The dead, until they wake <br />In the grave.<br /><br />Thomas Lovell Beddoes<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-swallow-leaves-her-nest/
