large/7359/shortpoetry133_1407_librivox_64kb_mp3/spc133_oldmansgrave_w_64kb_4
large/7359/shortpoetry133_1407_librivox_64kb_mp3/spc133_oldmansgrave_w_64kb
English
7359
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. 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
a song; But her blue-brimmed eyes are dim With her deep anguish standing there. Sending across the world with him The dear, white guerdon of her prayer. For her the lonely vigil waits When ashen dawnlights come and go, Each bringing through the future's gates Its presages of fear and woe; For her the watch with soul and heart Grown sick with dread, as women may, Yet keeping still her pain apart 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.  THE OLD BAT'S GRAVE BY LUCY VAUD MOUNTGOMERY READ
large/7359/shortpoetry133_1407_librivox_64kb_mp3/spc133_oldmansgrave_w_64kb
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