Departed the pride, and the glory of Mardi: <br />The vaunt of her isles sleeps deep in the sea, <br />That rolls o'er his corse with a hush, <br />His warriors bend over their spears, <br />His sisters gaze upward and mourn. <br />Weep, weep, for Adondo is dead! <br />The sun has gone down in a shower; <br />Buried in clouds the face of the moon; <br />Tears stand in the eyes of the starry skies, <br />And stand in the eyes of the flowers; <br />And streams of tears are the trickling brooks, <br />Coursing adown the mountains.-- <br />Departed the pride, and the glory of Mardi: <br />The vaunt of her isles sleeps deep in the sea. <br />Fast falls the small rain on its bosom that <br />sobs,-- <br />Not showers of rain, but the tears of Oro.<br /><br />Herman Melville<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/song-of-yoomy/
