Beyond the Grave
The brightest green and dullest grey -
The colours of the cemetery.
The ancient yew tree, centuries old,
Still welcomes all into the fold.
The rich and famous, cheek by jowl
Co-habit with the village poor.
Now all are equal in this place:
Past members of the human race.
Old ivy rises from the grave;
It seeks the light, its soul to save.
Consuming letters one by one,
It clings and creeps towards the sun.
With bold inscription fading fast
The master mason looks aghast.
But who was Walter, where is he?
He's shrouded in obscurity.
A churchyard is a dead city,
Remembrance of mortality
And yet, despite the fading flowers,
The wren and robin here find bowers.
The blackbird's sweet soliloquy
Drifts gently from the rowan tree.
Away with death, decay and strife,
Here is a sanctuary for life!
William Messent's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (Beyond the Grave by William Messent )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(8 February 1911 – 6 October 1979)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
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