 | Poems of Charles Warren Stoddard . |  |
53
A NANTUCKET GRAVE
Tired of the tempest and racing wind,
Tired of the spouting breaker,
Here they come at the end, to find
Rest in the silent acre.
Tired of the spouting breaker,
Here they come at the end, to find
Rest in the silent acre.
Feet pass over the graveyard turf,
Up from the sea or downward;
One way leads to the raging surf,
One to the perils townward.
Up from the sea or downward;
One way leads to the raging surf,
One to the perils townward.
“Hearken, hearken!” the dead men call,—
“Whose is the step that passes?
Knows he not we are safe from all,
Under the nodding grasses?”
“Whose is the step that passes?
Knows he not we are safe from all,
Under the nodding grasses?”
| Poems of Charles Warren Stoddard . | |