1/5: The Queen of Prussia's Tomb
It stands where northern willows weep,
A temple fair and lone ;
Soft shadows o'er its marble sweep,
From cypress branches thrown ;
While silently around it spread,
Thou feel'st the presence of the dead.
And what within is richly shrined ?
A sculptured woman's form,
Lovely, in perfect rest reclined,
As one beyond the storm :
Yet not of death, but slumber, lies