University of Virginia Library


98

A LOST GRAVEYARD

Near by, a soundless road is seen, o'ergrown with grass and brier;
Far off, the highway's signal flies—a hurrying dust of fire.
But here, among forgotten graves, in June's delicious breath,
I linger where the living loved to dream of lovely death.
Worn letters, lit with heavenward thought, these crumbled headstones wear;
Fresh flowers (old epitaphs of Love) are fragrant here and there.
Years, years ago, these graves were made—no mourners come to-day:
Their footsteps vanish'd, one by one, moving the other way.

99

Through the loud world they walk, or lie—like those here left at rest—
With two long-folded useless arms on each forgotten breast.