Upon her Stone at Dead of Night

Upon her stone at dead of night
Flashed the wild rain in lightnings white.
She unaware of sound or sight.

The shadowing minster clanged on high.
Chariots of loud life hurried by,
Disturbing ne'er the sleeper nigh.

Her little girl had grief to smother
E'er since the father took another
In place of her own tender mother.

By moonlight to the grave she crept,
Tears on her mother's name she wept, . .
. . . Who the same .sleep unheeding slept.