Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, REFLECTIONS, WRITTEN ON VISITING THE GRAVE OF A FRIEND, by ANN PLATO


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

REFLECTIONS, WRITTEN ON VISITING THE GRAVE OF A FRIEND, by                    
First Line: Deep in this grave her bones remain
Last Line: We turn to dust, to sleep, to repose.
Subject(s): African Americans - Women; Friendship; Graves; Mortality; Tombs; Tombstones


Deep in this grave her bones remain,
She's sleeping on, bereft of pain;
Her tongue in silence now does sleep,
And she no more time's call can greet.

She lived as all God's saints should do,
Resigned to death and suffering too;
She feels not pain or sin oppress,
Nor does of worldly cares possess.

White were the locks that thinly shed
Their snows around her honored head,
And furrows not to be effaced
Had age amid her features traced.

I said, "My sister, do tread light,
Faint as the stars that gleam at night,
Nor pluck the tender leaves that wave
In sweetness over this sainted grave."

The rose I've planted by her side,
It tells me of that fate decried;
And bids us all prepare to die,
For that our doom is hast'ning nigh.
Oh, that the gale that sweeps the heath
Too roughly o'er your leaves should breathe,
Then sigh for her -- and when you bloom,
Scatter your fragrance o'er her tomb.

Alone I've wandered through the gloom,
To pour my lays upon her tomb;
And I have mourned to see her bed
With brambles and with thorns o'erspread.

O, surely, round her place of rest
I will not let the weed be blest;
It is not meet that she should be
Forgotten or unblest by me.

My sister said, "Tell of this grave!"
Go ask, said I, the thoughtless wave;
And spend one hour in anxious care --
In duty, penitence, and prayer.

Farewell! let memory bestow,
That all may soon be laid as low,
For out of dust, God did compose:
We turn to dust, to sleep, to repose.





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