silency

Updated: May 21, 2025

"Their rotten relics lurk close under ground; With living weight no sense or sympathy They have at all; nor hollow thundering sound Of roaring winds that cold mortality Can wake, ywrapt in sad Fatality: To horse's hoof that beats his grassie dore He answers not: the moon in silency Doth passe by night, and all bedew him o'er With her cold, humid rayes; but he feels not Heaven's power."

Various - The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 04, No. 21, July, 1859