| Andrew Macphail, comp. The Book of Sorrow. 1916. | | | VI. The Grave’s Triumph
‘O Earth! art thou not weary’ | | By Julia C. R. Dorr (1825–1913) |
| | | O EARTH! art thou not weary of thy graves? | |
| Dear patient mother Earth, upon thy breast | |
| How are they heaped from farthest east to west! | |
| From the dim north, where the wild storm-wind raves | |
| O’er the cold surge that chills the shore it laves, | 5 |
| To sunlit isles by softest seas caressed, | |
| Where roses bloom alway and song-birds nest, | |
| How thick they lie—like flocks upon the waves! | |
| There is no mountain-top so far and high, | |
| No desert so remote, no vale so deep, | 10 |
| No spot by man so long untenanted, | |
| But the pale moon, slow marching up the sky, | |
| Sees over some lone grave the shadows creep! | |
| O Earth! art thou not weary of thy dead? | | | | |
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