THE FORGOTTEN GRAVE. A SKETCH IN A CEMETERY. UT from the City's dust and roar, OUT You wandered through the open door : Paused at a plaything 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,- How strange! The very grasses' growth Askance that wreathed the neighbour urn. THE FORGOTTEN GRAVE. And then, in letters sharp and clear, 163 A MY LANDLADY. SMALL brisk woman, capped with many a bow; some," Who bids me, bustling, "God speed," when I go, “Ay, sir, 'tis cold,—and freezing hard,—they say ; A musky haunt of lavender and shells, Quaint-figured Chinese monsters, toys, and trays— A glossy screen, where wide-mouth dragons ramp; MY LANDLADY. A pictured ship, with full-blown canvas set; With yellow writing faded underneath. Looking, I sink within the shrouded chair, "Where is he?" "Ah, sir, he is dead-my boy! He's always living in my head-my boy! "There were two souls washed overboard, they said, "He was a strong, strong swimmer. Do you know, 165 "'Twas his third voyage. That's the box he brought,Or would have brought—my poor deserted boy! And these the words the agents sent-they thought "Look, sir, I've something here that I prize more : This is a fragment of the poor lad's coat, That other clutched him as the wave went o'er, And this stayed in his hand. That's what they wrote. "Well, well, 'tis done. My story's shocking you ;— |