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William McCarty, comp. The American National Song Book. 1842.

The Tomb of Burrows

I SAW the green turf resting cold

On Burrows’ hallow’d grave,

No stone the inquiring patriot told

Where slept the good and brave.

Heaven’s rain and dew conspired to blot

The traces of the holy spot.

No flowerets deck’d the little mound

That moulder’d on his breast,

Nor rural maidens, gathering round,

His tomb with garlands dress’d;

But sporting children thoughtless trod

On Valour’s consecrated sod.

I mourn’d, who for his country bleeds

Should be forgot so soon,

That fairest fame and brightest deeds

Should want a common boon.

But O! the rich have hearts of steel,

And what can Penury more than feel?

At length, “a passing stranger” came

Whose hand its bounties shed,

He bade the speaking marble claim

A tribute for the dead:

And, sweetly blending, hence shall flow

The tears of gratitude and wo.