The Moor Grave

I lie out here under a heather sod,
A moor-stone at my head; the moor winds play above.
I lie out here.…The graveyard of their God
Was not for desperate me who died for love!
I lie out here under the sun and moon;
Across me ponies stride, and curlews cry.
I have no tombstone screed—no: “Soon
To glory shall she rise!” But peace have I!
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