THE GRAVE. TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN BY L. D. PYCHOWSKA. The grave is deep and still, And fearful is its night; It hides, with darkened veil, The Unknown from our sight. No song of nightingale Within its depths is heard; And only is its moss By friendship's roses stirred. In vain their aching hands Forsaken brides may wring; No answer from the grave The cries of orphans bring: Yet is it there alone The longed-for rest is found; Alone through these dark gates May pass the homeward bound. The silent heart beneath, That pain and sorrow bore, Hath only found true peace There , where it beats no more.