THE GRAVES OF A HOUSEHOLD.
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THE GRAVES OF A HOUSEHOLD.
They grew in beauty, side by side,
They fill'd one home with glee;—
Their graves are sever'd, far and wide,
By mount, and stream, and sea.
The same fond mother bent at night
O'er each fair sleeping brow;
She had each folded flower in sight,—
Where are those dreamers now?
One, midst the forests of the west,
By a dark stream is laid—
The Indian knows his place of rest,
Far in the cedar shade.
