Martinsburg independent. [volume] (Martinsburg, W. Va.) 1875-1900, 1875-06-12

@tFF ""Nt NAh&. = - a LIZA
Where the gentle whispering breeze
Softly rustleth through the trees.
Where tho sunbeams pure and white.
Falls In floods Of cloudless light.
Bathing many a tarfy heap
Where the lowlier slnmberers Sleep.
And tae graceful willow waves
Banner-like, Ger nameless graves
Here hath prayer arisen like dew.
Here the earth is holy, too.
Lightly pass each grassy mound
Surely this is hallowed ground
We have heard of the Scottish pill
grim whose enthusiasm led him to
revisit the graves of his country's
martyrs, tofreshen the record ftheir
virtues, their ~sufferings and their
glorious death. His pilgrimage, we
are told, was from churchyard to
churchyard, and when his eye rested
on the fadingmemorials of those who
had yirtuouslylived and bravely died,
his humble industry was ready to stop
the progress Of decay and anew
the epitaphs of the dead. The same
loving enthusiasm is seen in the an
nual decoration of the graves Of the
men in blue and gray who fell at the
post of duty in the late war. The liv-
ing may find in the cemetery a treas
ure of wholesome instruction. The
heart that does not seek communion
with the grave, and dwell with calm
and even pleasuTable meditation on
the change which natures great or
dinance has decreed, has laid up but
scant provision ~againstthe WEAKNESS
or the perils of the worlds pilgrimage.
Measure not thyself by the morning
shadow, bnt by the extent Of thy
grave,n is the solemn invocation the
departed spirit whispers into the ear
of the living man. The tomb is a
faithful counsellor and may not wise
ly be estranged from our view. 1t
tells us the great truth that Death is
not the Destroyer, but Time; it coun-
sells us that Time is our friend or foe
as we ourselves fashion him, and it
warns us tomakea friend of Time for
the sake Of Eternity.
These thoughts are suggested
as we quietly stroll through the
shaded avenues of Green Hill Gene
terry this bright and beautiful after
noon, with not cloud to canopy NOR
tality's resting place. We stand in
the midst Of the rich, green grass
freshened by the friendly rains, the
fragrant shrubbery the overhanging
trees of the ~consecrated ground. The
sunbeams in agoldenflood rests upon
the place, and streaming through the
lattice-work of waving boughs, fall
upon new-made graves. How quiet
is the spot! So full of life with the
varied tints of bursting buds
and flowers, and yet the dead cluster
around under the upturned turf In
each avenue familiar names of yes
terday, well-remembered ones of years
lang syne, look out from the cold
marble which rests upon them. We
stand in their midst, and yet we are
alone. How strange hat all which
is left of that throng once known to
us, should bethe sculptured words to
tell us they hadlived and died.
How balmy is the air-how gently
the leaves are stirred The flowers,
too, seem to look caressingly up into
the face of yon solitary mourner who,
with
Some hope, dism antled of its love and
That mid the shadows Of her memory
lies
A grave, m~oss-covered, where she loves
to lean
And sadly sing unto the form there
at might have BENCH, God it
might have been
How much of sadness and beauty
there is in the scene around us. How
many histories of bereavement are
recorded here.
A small marble column stands
near us. "Our Baby, wehave kissed
and laid her down to Sleep" is the
touching story, and mothers who
look in upon that baby's messy bed,
draw their own little ones nearer to
them, and with subdued voices pass
on.
Tread lightly. A little new-made
grave! Flowers are its only monu-
TsAL1- ~ -