Various

Full in the midst of these gray bounds
A lordly stone upswells;
The scroll, that thrice its bulk surrounds,
The passing stranger tells
Of what renownÈd line he came,
Who 'neath the marble lies,
What deeds he wrought of mark and fame,
That live when mortal dies.

And deep is graved how high his worth
Was prized, how widely known,
What honours crowned him from his birth,
What grief had raised the stone:
Yet he sleeps calmly on beneath,
Where Silence mocks at Fame;
Nor heeds the pomp made over death,
This blazon of his name.

Some paces off and thou wilt see
A grave of simple show,
As lowly and retired as he
Had been who rests below;
High rank and riches kept afar,
While they enjoyed their day,
The high and low—what social bar
May now divide their clay?

No honours mark the poor man's tomb,
This green secluded spot,
Yet still the pansy's purple bloom
Proclaims him not forgot;
No graven stone reclines above
To mourn the humble dead,
But woman's grief and children's love
Bedew the hallowed bed.

Nor here is any record hung
Of lineage and race,
The turf alone tells whence he sprung
Who fills this narrow space;
His virtues slumber with his dust,
Unrecked of and unknown;
But God in Whom reposed his trust
Receives him for His own.

D. F.

Printed and Published by W. & R. Chambers, 47 Paternoster Row, London, and 339 High Street, Edinburgh.

All Rights Reserved.