Original Poetry. THE SISTERS' GRAVE.

New Zealand Spectator and Cook's Strait Guardian, Volume VIII, Issue 754, 23 October 1852, Page 3

Original Poetry.

THE SISTERS' GRAVE.

In yon churchyard, where oft they've trod, Where tow'ring weeds and wild flowers wsve, — 'Tis there, beneath the same green sod, That Sisters three sleep in one grave. One home they shared in toil and mirth, One home they share In parent earth ; For, hand in hand, they've cross'd that bourne, From whence, once pass'd, we ne'er return. I knew the pretty Sisters well, For to our village school came they ; And we, in yonder bosky dell, And shady grove, were wont to play. Oft-times have we in merry June, Spent in the fields the happy day, And lond we used to laugh and sing, While turning o'er the new-mown hay» And oft around the blazing fire, In winter nights, we're snugly sat, And list'ned to the aged sire, Who join'd us in our merry chat. Again has come sweet month of June, And fields with new-mown hay are strewn ; They that' were wont to toil and sing — Those laughing ones — alas ! are gone. Long winter nights again shall be, And blazing fires perchance there may ; But never more the Sisters three ■ Shall cheer the hearth — for where are they ? In yon churchyard, beneath the sod, Which oft with lightsome foot they've trod, Where scatter'd wild flowers sadly wave, The Sisters three have found one grave. No more for them the larks may sing, ' Nor small birds warble forth their strains, No more for them need Flora bring Sweet-scented flowers to dress the plains. . Yet one sweet little flower I'd crave, Each spring, to deck the Sisters' Grave. - C. M. H. October 17, 1852.