WITH saintly grace and reverent tread She walked among the graves with me; Her every footfall seemed to be A benediction on the dead. The guardian spirit of the place She seemed, and I some ghost forlorn, Surprised by the untimely morn She made with her resplendent face. Moved by some waywardness of will, Three paces from the path apart She stepped and stood -- my prescient heart Was stricken with a passing chill. My child-lore of the years agone Remembering, I smiled and thought, "Who shudders suddenly at naught, His grave is being trod upon." But now I know that it was more Than idle fancy. O, my sweet, I did not know such little feet Could make a buried heart so sore! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WAY OF THE CONVENTICLE OF THE TREES by HAYDEN CARRUTH GOOD-BYE DOROTHY GAYLE: ST. CLOUD, MINNESOTA by KAREN SWENSON YOUR MISSION by ELLEN M. HUNTINGTON GATES MILES KEOGH'S HORSE by JOHN MILTON HAY THE LOVER: A BALLAD by MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU |