The gold leaf. [volume] (Henderson, N.C.) 1881-1911, 1898-12-08
The Uncut Grass.
(BOstOn JOurnal.)

The grass grows on the grave to the
height of mans knee.
The sunshine, dying, was a-dreaming
dreams. The hush of sleep was upon
the little graveyard. There was the
chirp of grasshoppers, the buzz of an
aldermanic bee. A faint wind was
astir in the trees, in the bush, in the
grass. Like ghosts surprised by dawn
the white stones peered slyly through
the dark greenery in the fading light of
sunset Here and there were splashes
of color, Il rose bush of red, a clump Of
clematis. Like unto priest robed III
a gorgeous chasuble, the sky in its sun
set spread arms of benedictiOn-and
oh, those white rose tinted Clouds
above the slumbering faithful.
A woman dressed in white and black,
young, golden haired, sweet faced, Of
pensive beauty, walked up the narrow
path. A man lingering near the
Western gate saw her and smiled and
followed slowly, yet faster than she
walked.
She stood by grave. The fading
light made her fair hair as airy nim-
bus. AS a sorrowing angel, she bent
over the grave.
The man uncovered She started
slightly. And she was less like an
angel for her cheeks flushed. She was
woman.
His grave has been neglected sad
ly," she said.
The grass grew on the grave to the
height of mans knee.
'And / have brought pair of shears
to cut the grass. l have brought flow
ers to put over him."
The man looked pensively at the
long grass.
"And now it seems to me" ht
spoke as to himself like the beautiful
uncut hair of graves; or the flag of m,
disposition-of hopeful green stuff
woven.''
''Ah," she sighed, ''my disposition
has not been woven of cheerfuln es
since"
She looked down at the grave.
81 must cut the grass" and sh
raised the bright, new shears.
"Iou look pale,' said the man
'you have been overdoing-you hav'
given yourself up to SORROW
And he too looked down at the grave
SIT has been neglected shamefully,
she murmured again; but he led her l.
rustic bench. Yellow roses bloome,
beside. Green willows bent over it
Man and woman, facing the colder
West sat down. They, he rather
talked. His voice was soft and purrng
At times he looked at her from the cor
ners of his eyes.
She listened gently. She drew OF
her gauntlets which should protect he
hands from the heavy shears.
He pointed to her the West, murmur
ing of its beauty, aud, still looking a
the royalty purple sky, dropped hi
hand. 1t fell upon her hand. coverin
golden ring. 1t rested there.
The sunset faded like a flaring lamp
A wind whispered chill things to til
grass. The white grave-stones SCENE
to stir in the uncertain light; the
moved like unto ghosts released from
the day-spell.
She shivered.
"It's too cold for you-and the de,
let me beg you
She rose to her feet.
but l have not cut the grass?"
"To-morrow.''
Arm i'll arm they passed through tn
gate. The wan dark deepened. Wind
grow mad in a graveyard and tie
strange stories, silly jests; and now
mad wind told a new tale to the sileu
graves, chuckling and snickering in tn
grass. The man heard; he turned an
over the woman's shoulder smiled i
answer.
The grass grew on the grave to til
height of a mans knee.
{. NJ. WILLIAMS.
In writing an editorial on Thank.