As a pale cypher set among the weeds, The rooted tombstone still repeats the names No man will know. Granite is less than deeds That were not quite enough to make just claims On a world's attention, over-taxed and tired. Here, as in life, they make their gesture—fail. Sweet Mrs. Mercy, Hepzibah inspired By what high motives that have left no trail. The gray stones slant, grass hides the deep-cut date That would not matter if it stood out clear; And yet this uttered pride has its own weight, As if obscurity gained substance here, And darkness fame, in those content to be "Dear husband", "virtuous wife", "son lost at sea". | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 20 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING PASSING BY by THOMAS FORD (1580-1648) CALDWELL OF SPRINGFIELD [JUNE 23, 1780] by FRANCIS BRET HARTE A DIRGE (1) by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS DREAM-LOVE by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI IF WE KNEW; OR, BLESSINGS OF TO-DAY by MAY LOUISE RILEY SMITH MARIA MINOR by MARGARET AVISON COMPARES THE TROUBLES WHICH HE HAS UNDERGONE, TO LABOURS OF HERCULES by PHILIP AYRES |