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ghizela rowe - the funeral - letitia elizabeth landon lyrics

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mark you not yon sad procession;
‘mid the ruin’d abbey’s gloom
hastening to the worm’s possession
to the dark and silent tomb!

see the velvet pall hangs over
poor mortality’s remains;
we should shudder to discover
what that coffin’s sp+ce contains

death itself is lovely—wearing
but the colder shape of sleep;
or the solemn statue bearing
beauty that forbids to weep

but decay—the pulses tremble
when its livid signs appear;
when the once+loved lips resemble
all we loathe, and all we fear

is it not a ghastly ending
for the body’s godlike form
thus to the damp earth descending
food and triumph to the worm?

better far the red pile blazing
with the spicy indian wood
incense unto heaven raising
from the sandal oil’s sweet flood
in the bright pyre’s kindling flashes
let my yielded soul ascend;
fling to the wild winds my ashes
’till with mother+earth they blend

not so,—let the pale urn keep them;
touch’d with spices, oil, and wine;
let there be some one to weep them;
wilt thou keep that urn? love mine!

- ghizela rowe lyrics

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