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An Evening Walk in a Graveyard

Edward S. Sorenson

One quiet evening cool and calm,
    An hour ‘fore the twilight fades,
When winds low sang their evening psalms
    For all departed shades,
I wandered thro’ that peaceful square—
    God’s sacred garden green—
Thinking of dear ones sleeping there
    With those I ne’er had seen.

The tombstones stand in white array,
    Their silent vigil keep
Over the lifeless, mouldering clay,
    Buried there so deep;
Sons and daughters, fathers, mothers,
    Dwelling among the blest,
With cherished sisters, dear-loved brothers,
    For evermore at rest.

Some are railed and carefully cleaned,
    Some named, and some are not,
And many by rank growth are screened,
    And long ago forgot;
Poor souls that toiled on earth alone,
    With ne’er a one to love,
With the rich and great together gone
    To that bright home above.

A maiden by one grave was kneeling,
    Her head bent down in prayer,
And one by one were teardrops stealing
    Adown her cheeks so fair,
Telling of the pain and sorrow
    Implanted in her heart,
Of yearnings for that glad to-morrow
    They’d meet no more to part.

And here were little children two,
    Where a parent dear was laid,
Weeping, as with wreaths they strew
    The mound but newly made.
And there a widow sad, adorning
    A plot with flowers and tree;
A lonely soul in silence mourning
    A sweetheart he cannot see.

And o’er the rails around her bed
    He leans with folded arms,
A shadow falls upon his head
    From gaunt and drooping palms,—
Thinking of the days gone by
    They strolled by dale and dell,
Beneath the bright and sunny sky,
    And of their last farewell.

Why should we mourn and weep for those
    That God has called away?
Would we recall them to these woes
    From His realm of endless day?
Ah, let us rather hope to be
    United there with them,
And crowned by Heaven’s sweet decree,
    With Glory’s diadem.

No rest or peace there’s here below,
    Nor happiness so pure,
As reigns where those dear spirits go
    For ever to endure;
So not for them in sorrow weep,
    Nor yearn them back to bring,
One day you too will fall asleep,
    And hear the angels sing.

Edward S. Sorenson, Casino

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