In shards the sylvan vases lie,
Their links of dance undone,
And brambles wither by thy brim,
Choked fountain of the sun!
The spider in the laurel spins,
The weed exiles the flower:
And, flung to kiln, Apollo's bust
Makes lime for Mammon's tower.
More verses by Herman Melville
- Sheridan At Cedar Creek
- On The Grave Of A Young Cavalry Officer Killed In The Valley Of Virginia
- The Released Rebel Prisoner
- Rebel Color-Bearers At Shiloh
- Malvern Hill