 | Poems |  |
173
THE GRAVE OF A POETESS.
Let her be laid within a silent dell,Where hanging trees throw round a twilight gleam,
Just within hearing of some village-bell,
And by the margin of a low-voiced stream;
For these were sights and sounds she once loved well.
Then o'er her grave the star-paved sky will beam;
While all around the fragrant wild-flowers blow,
And sweet birds sing her requiem to the water's flow.
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