large/7359/shortpoetry133_1407_librivox_64kb_mp3/spc133_oldmansgrave_w_64kb_1
large/7359/shortpoetry133_1407_librivox_64kb_mp3/spc133_oldmansgrave_w_64kb
English
7359
Make it where the starshine dim May be always close to him, And the sunrise glory spread Lavishly around his bed. And the dewy grasses creep Tenderly above his sleep. Since these things to him were dear Through full many a well spent year. It is surely meet their grace Should be on his resting place. And the murmur of the sea Be his dirge eternally. MAKE IT WHERE THE STARSHINE DID BE ALWAYS CLOSE TO HIM AT THE SUDRET RISE GLORY SPREAD LAVISHLY AROUND HIS BED AT THE DEW GRASSES CREEP TENDERLY ABOVE HIS SLEEP IT SEEKS TO HIBER DEAR THROUGH FULL READIER WELL SPENT YEAR IT IS SURELY MEET THEIR GRACE SHOULD BE ON HIS GUESTING PLACE AT THE MURMUR OF THE SEA BE HIS DIRGE ETERNALLY
rt From the wan duties of the day. 154 *Tis hers to walk when sunsets yield Their painted splendors to the skies, And dream on some far battlefield Perchance alone, unwatched, he dies; Tis hers to kneel in patient prayer When midnight stars keep sentinel. Lest the chill death-dews damp the hair Upon the brow she loves so well. So stands she, white and sad and sweet, Upon the latticed balcony, From golden hair to slender feet No lady is so fair as she ; He loves her true, he holds her dear. But he must ride on dangerous quest, With gallant glance and smile of cheer, And her red rose upon his breast. 155 THE OLD MAN'S GRAVE Make it where the winds may sweep Through the pine boughs soft and deep, And the murmur of the sea Come across the orient lea, And the falling raindrops sing Gently to his slumbering. Make it where the meadows wide Greenly lie on every side. Harvest fields he reaped and trod, Westering slopes of clover sod, Orchard lands where bloom and blow Trees he planted long ago.  THE OLD BAT'S GRAVE BY LUCY VAUD MOUNTGOMERY READ FOR LIVERAL DOT ORG BY WILLIE MAKE IT WHERE THE WIND MAY SWEEP THROUGH THE PIPE BOUGHS SOFT AND DEEP AND THE RIVER OF THE SEA COMES ACROSS THE ORIENTLY AT THE FOLI RAY DROPS SING GENTLY TO HIS SLUMBERY MAKE IT WHERE THE MEADOWS WIDE GREEDILY LIE ON EVERY SIDE HARVEST FIELDS HE REAPED AND TROD WESTERY SLOPES OF CLOVER SOD ORCHARD LADS OR BLUE WOULD BLOW TREES HE PLANTED LONG AGO
large/7359/shortpoetry133_1407_librivox_64kb_mp3/spc133_oldmansgrave_w_64kb
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