In memory's faithful mirror here once more we trace

Familiar forms of those in life we knew,

And see again the shadowy outlines of some face

That, living, beamed with kindness—ever true.

Old age, and manhood's prime, and helpless infancy

Have dotted o'er with many an emerald mound,

And marked each stone with mournful tracery

Which stands within this consecrated ground.

And there the marble shaft its stately head

In polished whiteness pointing to the sky,

And here the modest tribute to the lowly dead—

The silent monitors that tell us all must die.

[Pg 34]

Here lavish Nature her bright smile imparts

And decks with lovely flowers in early Spring,

And here the sympathetic tear unbidden starts,

And loving hands their sweetest tributes bring.

Loved spot! A solace to the living 'tis to know

That when at last—life's fitful fever o'er—

The cortege sad, with solemn step and slow,

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