And see the tombs of the dear departed,
Read of the love of the broken-hearted
Writ on the stones how they loved them only,
Who loved them well and who left them lonely?
Yea! I shall see all the cold white faces
Lying so still in their secret places.

Under the earth goes the last new-comer,
What were the life of her, winter-summer!
What if her silent grave holds one only
Who loved her well, and who left her lonely?