Classic Poem

One evening, after Decoration day,
I lingered when the rest had gone away,
And sadly strolled among the graves alone,
With fresh-cut flowers by loving hands bestrewn.

How many thoughts within my heart awoke!
Of keenest memories the roses spoke;
The lilies breathed of peace and joy above,
And every tiny blossom whispered " Love. "

Then suddenly I felt around me there
The presence of the dead, benign and fair,
And in my heart the glad conviction grew
That all our earthly love they saw and knew.

I turned away to quit the holy place,
When, lo! a vision of angelic grace, —
A beauteous picture ne'er to be forgot, —
Beamed on my sight and held me to the spot.

A little child was standing by a grave;
Her hair fell free in many a golden wave,
And when she looked I saw within her eyes
Tears, mixed with smiles, like rain in sunny skies.

" Are you not lost, my little maid, " I said,
" So late amid the dwellings of the dead? "
In sweetest, saddest tones she answered me:
" Here's one that hasn't any folks, you see.

" The only grave that every one passed by,
And when I thought of it it made me cry.
The one there by the willow-tree is ours,
Covered so thick with all those pretty flowers.

" My Uncle Frank's — he'll never care, I know,
If some of his upon this one I throw.
When he was shot, I've heard my gran'pa say,
And dying on the field of battle lay,

" He made the doctor leave him where he fell
And take some other man who might get well. "
She ran, and soon her chubby arms were filled
With flowers that on the friendless mound she spilled.

Her mission done, the little maid I bore
Safe in my arms back to her mother's door,
Kissed her good-by, and thought how wondrous fair
The Christ-love mirrored in the child-love there.

Oh, those neglected graves! weed-covered mounds,
Lone slabs and trenches on old battle-grounds.
Let us remember them wherever known,
In His dear name that loveth all His own.