Where Claribel low-lieth
⁠The breezes pause and die,
⁠Letting the rose-leaves fall:
But the solemn oak-tree sigheth,
⁠Thick-leaved, ambrosial,
⁠With an ancient melody
⁠Of an inward agony,
Where Claribel low-lieth.

At eve the beetle boometh
⁠Athwart the thicket lone:

At noon the wild bee hummeth
⁠About the moss'd headstone:
At midnight the moon cometh,
⁠And looketh down alone.
Her song the lintwhite swelleth,
The clear-voiced mavis dwelleth,
⁠The fledgling throstle lispeth,
The slumbrous wave outwelleth,
⁠The babbling runnel crispeth,
The hollow grot replieth
Where Claribel low-lieth.