cemetery - Popular Poems and stories from category

It is the clay what makes the earth stick to his spade;
He fills in holes like this year after year;
The others have gone; they were tired, and half
But I would rather be standing here;

How strange it seems
These Hebrews in their graves, Close by the street of this fair seaport town, Silent beside the never-silent waves, At rest in all this moving up and down
The trees are white with dust, that o'er their sleep Wave the...