180
COUNTING THE GRAVES.
"I did not know,—I who had light and breath:
Something to touch, to look at, if no more.
Fair earth to live in, who believes in death,
Till, dumb and blind, he lies at one's own door?
Something to touch, to look at, if no more.
Fair earth to live in, who believes in death,
Till, dumb and blind, he lies at one's own door?
. . . "I did not know—I may have heard or read—
Of more; but should I search the wide grass through,
Lift every flower and every thorn," she said,
"From every grave—oh, I should see but two!"
Of more; but should I search the wide grass through,
Lift every flower and every thorn," she said,
"From every grave—oh, I should see but two!"
