The Forgotten Grave

Out from the city's giant roar, You wandered through the open door; Paused at a little pail and spade Across a tiny hillock laid; Then noted on your dexter side Some moneyed mourner's "love or pride;" And so, beyond a hawthorn-tree, Showering its rain of rosy bloom Alike on low and lofty tomb, You came upon it - suddenly.

How strange! The very grasses' growth Around it seemed forlorn and loath; The very ivy seemed to turn Askance that wreathed the neighbor urn. Sunk was the slab; the head declined, And left the rails a wreck behind. No name; you traced a "6," a "7," Part of "affliction" and of "Heaven;" And then, - O Irony austere! - You read in letters sharp and clear, "Though lost to sight, to memory dear."