poems.
89
Sick at heart I wandered sadly
To the graveyard cold and white,
And my eyes with tears were filling;
On my heart there seemed a blight.
To the graveyard cold and white,
And my eyes with tears were filling;
On my heart there seemed a blight.
And I called aloud to Silence,
"Tell me, tell me, where are they
That are absent from the hearth-stone,
That are absent from their play?
"Tell me, tell me, where are they
That are absent from the hearth-stone,
That are absent from their play?
"Answer, Silence! thou, O mortal,
Tell thy answer unto me."
And they murmured sadly, strangely,
"Mounds in the graveyard tell it to thee."
Tell thy answer unto me."
And they murmured sadly, strangely,
"Mounds in the graveyard tell it to thee."
Alas! alas! 'twas but too true,—
They were sleeping in the grave;
Now the willow and the daisy
Gently o'er their loved heads wave.
They were sleeping in the grave;
Now the willow and the daisy
Gently o'er their loved heads wave.
And I bowed my head in sorrow,
As my steps I homeward bent;
For life's dark changes come to all;
Our earthly days are only lent.
As my steps I homeward bent;
For life's dark changes come to all;
Our earthly days are only lent.
