A grey stone standing over thee;
Black mould beneath thee spread
And black mould to cover thee—
“Well, there is rest there
“So fast come thy prophecy—
“The time when my sunny hair
“Shall with grass roots twined be”
But cold, cold is that resting place
Shut out from Joy and Liberty
And all who loved thy living face
Will shrink from its gloom and thee
“Not so, here the world is chill
“And sworn friends fall from me
“But there, they’ll own me still
“And prize my memory”
Farewell then, all that love
All that deep sympathy;
Sleep on, heaven laughs above—
Earth never misses thee
Turf-sod and tombstone drear
Part human company
One heart broke, only, there
That heart was worthy thee!—