THE HERMIT.
53
The beam lay on the rigid brow of death.
But on his breast, beneath the sackcloth robe,
Was found the picture of his early love
Pressed o'er his throbless heart. They buried him
Upon that dismal moor, and when the Spring
Smiled sweetly on the earth, a stranger come,
A gentle lady, deeply bowed with grief,
And planted flowers upon his lonely grave!
But on his breast, beneath the sackcloth robe,
Was found the picture of his early love
Pressed o'er his throbless heart. They buried him
Upon that dismal moor, and when the Spring
Smiled sweetly on the earth, a stranger come,
A gentle lady, deeply bowed with grief,
And planted flowers upon his lonely grave!
Louisville, Ky.
