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PART III.
O sacred spot of earth, where gentle hands
Have laid the fragile form, so late suffused
With life's first glow, beneath the friendly mould;
To slumber undisturbed where daisies spring
Unbidden, and the turf, with every dawn,
Seems wet afresh with tears! There by fond hands
Ivy and myrtle have been taught to twine;
The snow-drop spotless and forget-me-not
To bloom in simple beauty, emblems meet
Of purity and of immortal love.
The friendly trees their drooping boughs o'erhang
As if in sympathy. The summer birds
Chant tender carols through the shining hours;
And mingled lights and shades so softly blend,
That neither garish day nor gloom doth reign,
But grateful twilight lingers ever there.
