Daily evening star. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1852-1854, 1854-09-06
EVENING STAR.
THOUGHTS IN A CEMETERY.

THOUGHTS IN A CEMETERY.
A correspondent thus beautifully gives
her reflections on visiting a cemetery,
after long absence: f1a Fs..s
The afternoon was closing in, when,
accompanied by friends, ! passed within
the gate of the cemetery at Georgetown.
A little child stood near, and as she look
ed up to my face, thought her lovely
porter to show the entrance to the halls
of death. Nor was stranger on that
spot. In my childhood, l had played be-
meath those ancient oaks, gathering the
auts and acorns that lay around; l had
looked up to see the sun shining between
the heavy boughs; had been lulled to
sleep by the sweet voices of nature that
now, when my childhood and youth are
dead, others may still hear. 1 gazed
around, and, instantly, memory awoke
from her long sleep, and events that
seemed to have gone from me for years,
came again. Even the ight-heartedness
of childhO0d-oh, blessed sensation -
rested for one moment upon me.
Yet there was something that missed,
without and within. The leaves that
once lay in masses on the earth, and
through which had loved to draw my
feet to make a rustling sound, has been
all cleared away, and I could not feel
that assurance of happiness that only a
child can know. But found, without
and within, what was not always there.
Before me were the green mound, the
stately monument, the marble urn, the
consecrated f1ower-within my heart were
graves: of thought, of fancy, and of
hope-graves from whose solemn depths
what was there buried should never
more arise. So sadly I felt when I first
trod those paths in the city of the dead,
that could hardly look up to read the
holy verses on the tablets that Scripture
has furnished for notices in such place.
l could only look down to the dust, and
silently nurmur-death, death.
Yet, it is good place in which to
wander; and not only for the mourner.
Let the worldly and the ambitious tread
these walks while they may, for along
such must they be borne, that the living,
standing beside their monuments, NAV
consider the end of all human passions.
Let the young pass lightly by, and see
carved, in fair marble, the bud as often
broken in its promise, as the faded rose,
fallen to the earth. Let the rich man,
the student, the Christian, and the de.
spiser, come often to this holy ground:
and, oh, erring, but sorrowful heart ,
come thou here, and look up to God! He
is merciful, and the grave will cover all.
For, behold it is not only the poor form
that the earth shields in her bosom, and
over which the grass grows so tenderly;
man may profanely wrest from the coffin
its passive prisoner, but that cold, still
heart is grave whose secrets may not
be ravished.
Thought was busy, as, while 1 stood
among the dead, | held converse with
the living. wondered that men a, i
women so anxiously pursued phantoms
that short season Of time would utterly
dissolve. And l said at is well; "There
is a portion of happiness for each one to
enjoy; an amount of misery that all
must suffer; and there are events that
must and will occur" until death comes
to punish or reward. -ta- ..a.
But softer and more gentle feelings
came with the tears that fell when I
dwelt mournfully, but affectionately, on
one who, far away, has just laid, and not
unwillingly, his honored head on the
earth. His beloved form, though now
reposing on so lonely bed-how glorious
is the home of the soul, that ever growing
in holiness and virtue here, has attained
mansion in the Fathers house. These
hands that were always outstretched to
help the needy, are powerless now; but
the spirit that animated them to deeds OF
love. is waiting to perform the will OF
the Benifcent. That voice so kind, so
harmonious, has, ere this, been united
with the tones of the saints and of the
patriar chs. That heart, ever loving,
ever hoping, ever adoring, how have its
sympathies been expanded in the short
season that has since passed, since care
and pain with him have ceased for ever
how will its very perfection be enlarged
in the countless ages through which it is
destined to pass. And we shall meet
again! Death has placed between him
and us black and impenetrable veil,
which land We must be patient) Inmor-
tality will one day draw aside.
WASHINGTON, Sept. l. NJ. II. E.