Poems (Piatt)/Volume 2/At the Grave of a Suicide

by Sarah Piatt

AT THE GRAVE OF A SUICIDE.

You sat in judgment on him, you whose feet
 Were set in pleasant places, you who found
The Bitter Cup he dared to break still sweet,
 And shut him from your consecrated ground.

Yet, if you think the dead man sleeps a whit
 Less soundly in his grave, come look, I pray.
A violet has consecrated it.
 Henceforth you need not fear to walk this way.