Treasure Island

Henry Austin Dobson

(18 January 1840 – 2 September 1921 / Plymouth)

The Forgotten Grave


OUT from the City’s dust and roar,
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,—
You came upon it—suddenly.

How strange! The very grasses’ growth
Around it seemed forlorn and loath;
The very ivy seemed to turn
Askance that wreathed the neighbor urn.
The slab had sunk; the head declined,
And left the rails a wreck behind.
No name; you traced a “6,”—a “7,”—
Part of “affliction” and of “Heaven;”
And then, in letters sharp and clear,
You read—O Irony austere!—
“Tho’ lost to Sight, to Mem’ry dear.”

Submitted: Wednesday, April 14, 2010

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