The Grave Poem by Lucretia Maria Davidson
The Grave
There is a spot so still and dreary,
It is a pillow to the weary;
It is so solemn and so lone,
That grief forgets to heave a groan.
There life's storms can enter never;
There 't is dark and lonely ever;
The mourner there shall seek repose,
And there the wanderer's journey close.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Topic(s) of this poem: grief,journey,lonely,storms
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8/26/2026 6:57:44 AM # rel_20260825T124344Z_022792b
