In A Disused
Graveyard
The living come with grassy tread
To read the gravestones on
the hill;
The graveyard draws the
living still,
But never anymore the dead.
The verses in it say and say:
‘The ones who living come
today
To read the stones and go
away
Tomorrow dead will come to
stay’.
So sure of death the marbles rhyme,
Yet can’t help marking all
the times
How no one dead will seem to
come.
What is it men are shrinking
from?
It would be easy to be clever
And tell the stones: Men hate
to die
And have stopped dying now
forever.
I think they would believe
the lie.
Robert Frost - 1874 -
1963
From ‘New Hampshire’ (1923)
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