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"The summer sun-set, soft and warm,    Seemed as it blest the sleep Of that low grave, which held my child,     O'er which I longed to weep.

"The aged yew-trees' sweeping boughs    A solemn shadow spread; And many a growth of early flowers     Their soothing fragrance shed.

"But there were weeds upon his grave:    None watch'd the stranger's tomb, And bade, amid its long green grass,     The spring's sweet children bloom.

"You know the spot—our old church yard    Has no such grave beside; The primrose and the violet     There blossom in their pride.

"It is my only task on earth—   It is my only joy, To keep, throughout the seasons fair,    The green sod of my boy.

"Nor kin nor kindness have I lacked,    All here have been my friends; And, with a blessing at its close,     My lengthened wayfare ends.

"And now my little Edward knows    The cause why here I dwell; And how I trust to have my grave     By his I love so well."