Deep at night ‘neath shrouded moon,
Are laments of the dead consumed
By howling wind between the stones,
O’er graves, protecting sacred bones.
Apparitions in the gloom;
A line of shadows ring the tomb.
Heads bowed low in reverence deep
For one consigned to endless sleep.
With burning tears they do recall
That feeble voice carried in the squall.
Whispered to the family she begot,
Her final words, “Forget me not.” …
Then breaks the dawn and floods the land,
A pretty posy in her hand.
Playing again in fields of dreams
On rainbows, scattered by sunbeams.