Seeing a country churchyard, when the gray
Monuments walked, I with a second glance,
Doubting, postponed the apparent judgement day
To watch instead the random slow advance
Across the down of a hundred nibbling sheep.
And yet these tombs, half fancied and half seen
In the dim world between waking and sleep,
These headstones browsing on their plot of green,
Were sheep indeed and emblems of life.
For man to dust, dust turns to grass. The butcher's knife
Works magic, and the ephermeral sheep forms pass
Through swift tombs and through silent tombs, until
One more God's acre feeds across the hill.
This was interesting. I had to read it a few times to figure out there were no sheep (lol).
So is he saying we are all like sheep grazing in the field until the butcher's knife (death) ends it all?
or is he skeptical of the afterlife, believing that those who are led by churches to believe something more, are simply lambs to the slaugher?
is the poem about death itself, or the misleadings of religion? Or is it something else?
Another shameless bttt cause of the title.