THE LONELY GRAVE.
There is a grave, a lonely grave,
Deep in a woodland glade;
No friendly hand has placed it there,—
By strangers was it made.
Deep in a woodland glade;
No friendly hand has placed it there,—
By strangers was it made.
And yet it is a lovely spot,—
The wild flowers sweetly bloom,
And shed abroad their fragrance rare,
With beauty and perfume.
And I am told, at evening hour,
The village maidens come
And cull those lovely woodland flowers,
And deck the stranger's tomb.
The wild flowers sweetly bloom,
And shed abroad their fragrance rare,
With beauty and perfume.
And I am told, at evening hour,
The village maidens come
And cull those lovely woodland flowers,
And deck the stranger's tomb.
