Do ye hers,

    Ere th years?

    t thers---

    And t cannot stop tears.

    ting in the meadows;

    t;

    the shadows;

    to---

    But thers,

    tterly!---

    time of thers

    In try of the free.

    Do you question the sorrow,

    ears are falling so?---

    to-morrow

    in Long Ago---

    tree is leafless in t---

    t---

    tricken, is t---

    t to be lost:

    But thers,

    Do you ask tand

    eeping sore before thers,

    In our herland?

    their pale and sunken faces,

    And to see,

    For t, draws and presses

    Dohe cheeks of infancy---

    quot;Your old eart; t;is very dreary;quot;

    quot;Our young feet,quot; t;are very weak!

    Fe are weary?

    Our grave-rest is very far to seek.

    Ask t the children,

    For tside earth is cold,---

    And and , in our bewildering,

    And the old.

    quot;true,quot; say t;it may happen

    t ime.

    Little Alice died last year---the grave is shapen

    Like a snohe rime.

    e looked into t prepared to take her---

    as no room for any he close clay:

    From th none will wake her

    Crying, Get up, little Alice! it is day.

    If you listen by t grave, in sun and shower,

    ittle Alice never cries!---

    Could we see  know her,

    For time for growing in her eyes---

    And merry go s, lulled and stilled in

    the kirk-chime!

    It is good he chil