With gentle hands they placed the wreathed
by Lucille M. Kroner
gay flowers upon his casket grey and
Still beside the waiting altar there, and all
the powers of life, and those of death,
I knew the tide could not return one tear, one
precious smile to his dear face, so cold, so
Still inside this holy place. The organ swelled,
and while its music rose and stilled the
Silent nave, my heart rose up to join with him.
the file of grief I opened wide, nor
Yet was brave. So soft the mound of damp
moist earth, so still the trees, the muted birds.
My soul a slave to agony, I wept, nor knew the will
to raise myself up from this plot of clay.
Then, spent with grief upon this silent hill,
I left my life here on this somber day.
And bid farewell to my beloved always.