Poems (Truesdell)/The Lonely Grave
THE LONELY GRAVE.
There is a grave, a lonely grave, Deep in a woodland glade; No friendly hand has placed it there,— By strangers was it made.
And yet it is a lovely spot,— The wild flowers sweetly bloom, And shed abroad their fragrance rare, With beauty and perfume. And I am told, at evening hour, The village maidens come And cull those lovely woodland flowers, And deck the stranger's tomb.
Gratitude! thou hallowed guest! Thrice welcome to my heart!I hail thee as a precious gift, Nor from thee will I part Till I have poured my spirit forth, O maidens! unto thee, In grateful strains for kindness shown To one so dear to me.