Poems (Edwards)/The Stranger's Grave
For works with similar titles, see The Stranger's Grave.
THE STRANGER'S GRAVE.
Alone, alone, on the cold dark earth, In the winter hour they found him,And they laid him down in the friendly grave, With his pilgrim cloak around him;No mourner came to the lonely spot, Sad tears of sorrow weeping,None knew the name of the pilgrim lone, As he lay on the cold ground sleeping.
His grave is far from his native home, Where the wild deer's feet are bounding,And the wailing winds, with their voices deep, Through the dark dim woods are sounding;No loved one comes to that lonely place To scatter flowers above him,For he sleeps afar from his own green land, And the friends who used to love him.
He dreams no more of his early home, Of the love that used to bless him,He thinks no more of his father's face When bending to caress him;He sees no more in his wandering dreams, His mother—vigils keeping,As he lay at night on her holy.breast In peaceful stillness sleeping.
O! wake him not from his dreamless rest, Let your step be light around him,Ye know not, how many cords of love, To this changing life once bound him;Tread lightly there, for soon, aye, soon, You may fall like him; there's danger;And some may point to your mound, and say, "Behold the grave of a stranger."