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Poem	I see around me tombstones grey Stretching their shadows far away. Beneath the turf my footsteps tread Lie low and lone the silent dead - Beneath the turf - beneath the mould - Forever dark, forever cold - And my eyes cannot hold the tears That memory hoards from vanished years For Time and Death and Mortal pain Give wounds that will not heal again - Let me remember half the woe I've seen and heard and felt below, And Heaven itself - so pure and blest, Could never give my spirit rest - Sweet land of light! thy children fair Know nought akin to our despair - Nor have they felt, nor can they tell What tenants haunt each mortal cell, What gloomy guests we hold within - Torments and madness, tears and sin! Well - may they live in ectasy Their long eternity of joy; At least we would not bring them down With us to weep, with us to groan, No - Earth would wish no other sphere To taste her cup of sufferings drear; She turns from Heaven with a careless eye And only mourns that we must die! Ah mother, what shall comfort thee In all this boundless misery? To cheer our eager eyes a while We see thee smile; how fondly smile! But who reads not through that tender glow Thy deep, unutterable woe: Indeed no dazzling land above Can cheat thee of thy children's love. We all, in life's departing shine, Our last dear longings blend with thine; And struggle still and strive to trace With clouded gaze, thy darling face. We would not leave our native home For any world beyond the Tomb. No - rather on thy kindly breast Let us be laid in lasting rest; Or waken but to share with thee A mutual immortality -
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