Classic Poem

Enter a graveyard—all around you see,
 Though warm on turf and marble falls the sun,
Though round the green banks hums the bee,
 Signs of Death's conquest won.

Just here and there a few sad blossoms shine—
 What art thou doing, O rose?
No blossom here of royal line
 Without reluctance grows.

“ In loving memory .” So the legend runs:
 What memories here unite!
Memories of moonlit hours, of August suns,—
 Memories of young years bathed in golden light.

“ In loving memory .” Countless souls have wept;
 The graveyard takes no note of groan or tear.
No lasting record can be kept
 Of those who are resting here.

“ In loving memory .” Round each sacred word,
 Urged on by Time, the sluggish moss will creep:
Ah! those who loved, in love's sweet weakness erred
 Deeming they graved so deep.