Poems (Hoffman)/The Forgotten Grave
THE FORGOTTEN GRAVE
Beside a lonely and neglected graveI paused and watched the tangled grasses wave Mournfully to and fro;A rude, unlettered slab still strove to keepIts lonely vigil o'er the grass-grown heapWhere bereaved love had wept and ceased to weep, Long years ago.
The lonely pines wailed forth a plaintive dirge,Like the low moaning of the ocean surge Through hollow caves,Till with an inner consciousness, I heardA voice, that through the moaning branches stirredWith the weird melody in every word Of restless waves.
"I am forgotten, summers bloom and dieAnd careless strangers wander heedless by My lonely tomb;But long, long years my pulseless heart has sleptSince love above its moldering ashes wept,And where the myrtle's graceful garlands crept Rude thistles bloom.
"I am forgotten, yonder marble pile,Where through the golden days tall lilies smile And jasmines cling,Is decked anew each day with loving careWhile sorrow kneels in tearful anguish thereAnd love bestows in silent, mute despair Her offering.
"I am forgotten, not a tear doth fall,Memory no more my image shall recall Or mourn my doom;Nature's impartial hand alone doth strewMy silent bed with tears of crystal dewAnd sunbeams slanting rifted cloud-drifts through Deck my lone tomb.
"I am forgotten, fragile flowers of yore,Choked by the weeds, gave the brief conflict o'er, Nor left a trace;Farther each year my tidal wave recedesFrom memory's shore, but no one heedsOr calls to mind my long-forgotten deeds, Lost form or face.
"I am forgotten, yet from my still bedI hear the names of the illustrious dead In deathless song;Often these eyes on honor's scroll have gazedWhere deathless eulogies triumphant blazed,Alas! to pass unhonored and unpraised From out the throng.
"I am forgotten, Fate's austere decreeMarked out for mine that dreaded destiny To be forgot;My little day of hope and fear is done,I lie unnoticed now from sun to sun _And wail from thy lone depths, oblivion, Remembered not."
Among the pines the last wild wail was lost,But still the wind their moaning branches tossed Against the sky;When in my heart a slumbering voice awoke,And, though no sound the solemn stillness broke,From out my inner consciousness it spoke And made reply:
"O lonely pines, chant your sad dirge no more,O melancholy voice, no more deplore Thy common lot;I stand above the earth, below the sky,Below the angel choirs that sing on high,Above the unknown dead whose ashes lie By man forgot.
"There is a love that hath its vigil kept;There is a power, an eye that hath not slept Above thy dearth;Mortal, whate'er thy long-lost form may be,In the vast archives of eternityStill lives above frail human memory Thy name, thy worth."