Daily Richmond Whig. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1828-1831, 1829-03-14
[Fwm the Literary Gasette.}
THE TWO GRAVES.

'Tis u bleak wild hill--but green and bripht
in the summers warmth, and the midday light
There the hum of the bee, and the chrp Of the
And the dash of the brook from the alder glcn
There's the sound of the bell from the scatterd flock
and the shade of the beech lies cool on the rock,
And fresh from the west is the free winds breath,
There is nothing here that speaks of death.
Far yonder, where orchards and gardens lie,
And dwellings, cluster, It's there mon Ole.
Yhey arc born, they die, and are buried near,
Where the populous grave yard lghtens the bier
For strict and close are the ties that bind
in death, the children of human kind;
Yea, stricter and closer than those of life
tbs neighborhood that knows strife,
Whey noselessy gathered-friend and foe,
70 the still and dark assemblies below;
Without frown smile they meet,
Each pale and calm in his winding sheets
In that sullen home Of peace aud gloom,
Crowded like guests in banTuet-room.
Yet there are graves in this lonely spot,
Two humble graves-bui find them not.
J have seen them;-eghtcen years are past
Since found their place in the brambles last,
The place. where, fifty winters ago,
An aged man in his locks of snow,
And aged matron withcred with years,
W ere solcniny laid, but not with tears;
For none who sat by the Light of their hearth,
betcid their Collins covered with earth.
'rhnir KINDRED were far, aud their children dead,
Wn,n To-, aperal prayer was coldly said
Pwo low grC;:n hillocks, two small gray stones,
Rose over tho place tha: held their bones;
But the grassy hillocks are lcvelled aguin,
Anu tue kcencst eye might search in van.S--
Mong briars, and ferns and paths of sheep,
For the spot where the aged couple sleep.
Vet well might they lay, beneath the soil
vi this lonely spot, that man of toll,
And trench the strong hard mould with the spade,
Where never before grave made;
For he hewed the dark old woods away,
And gave the virgin field to the day.
And the gourd and the bean, beside his door,
Bloorn'd where their flowers ne'er opened before;
And the maize stood up, and the bearded rye
Bent low IN the breath of an unknown sky.
Ills said, that when life is ended here,
The spirit is borne to distant sphere:
Plat IL visits its earthly home no more,
Nor looks on the haunts it loved before.
But why should the bodiess soul be sent
Far Off to n long, long Punishment?
4'dlk not of the light and the living green,
It will pine for the dear, familiar scene,
IT will yearn in that strange bright world, to behold
The rock and the stream it knew of old,
Ills cruel ereed-beeve it not
Death, to the good, is a mildcr lot.
They are hcre-they are herc-that harmless pair
IN the yellow sunshine and flowing air
IN tho light clouds shadows, that slowly pass
In the sounds that rise from the mnrmuring grass
They sit where their humble cottage stood,
They walk by the waving edge of the wood;
And list to the long accustomed flow
Of the brook that vets the rock below.
Patient, and peaceful, and passioncss,
As seasons on seasons swiftly press
They watch, and wait, and lnger arouud,
9l the day when their bodies shall leave the ground
BRYANT.