WHERE THEY SLEEPThe fog inrolling, dark and stillLies deep upon the crowded deadAs flooding sea upon the sands,And quenches starlight overhead.Long have they slept. Their separate dustHas mingled with a nameless mould.Only the slower-crumbling stonesStill tell so much as may be told.And now in shoreless fog adriftLike some lone mariner gliding by,I lean above the drowning gravesAnd wonder when I too shall lieWhere evermore the tides of nightAnd earth will hide my lonely rest;And Time will bid my love forgetTo read the stone upon my breast.G. O. WARREN
The fog inrolling, dark and stillLies deep upon the crowded deadAs flooding sea upon the sands,And quenches starlight overhead.Long have they slept. Their separate dustHas mingled with a nameless mould.Only the slower-crumbling stonesStill tell so much as may be told.And now in shoreless fog adriftLike some lone mariner gliding by,I lean above the drowning gravesAnd wonder when I too shall lieWhere evermore the tides of nightAnd earth will hide my lonely rest;And Time will bid my love forgetTo read the stone upon my breast.
G. O. WARREN