Poems (Gifford)/"Go, Bury thy Sorrow"
"GO, BURY THY SORROW."
They are so precious to us, earth's sweet joys,But oh, they fade, they die, and then, ah, then,They are sore sorrows, we must bury them,Hide them away so that they be not seen,Or they will soon become offensive thingsTo all around. Then, though our buried griefsBe evidenced by grave-mounds in the lifeThat tell all silently of anguish deep,Well is it that, like grass on graves will growPeace evergreen, and we may plant thereonLove's fairest flowers, and see them flourishing.And we may raise enduring monumentsInscribed with words of resurrection hope;While ever in our hearts sure mercies standLike waving trees above our mournfulness.
Our cemeteries should be beautiful;So may the living walk among the tombsWith chastened gladness, reading even thereOf living joys that ne'er shall buried be.