Part III
Bad men, praise God, are not all bad,
One day they gave me to be sad,
Full knowing she was all I had!
The next they laid her in the ground
To eastward of that low brown mound,
Other small graves were there I found.
Then smoothed the sod, and walked away,
I stayed a little while to pray,
No mourner else had she that day.
Or so methought. There came a sound,
My head I raised, and past the mound
By twos and threes they crept around.
Oh poor kind hearts, hearts made of gold!
Trembling, half-naked, bent, and old,
Some young; all starved with want or cold!
Barefooted, sick, mishabit, lame,
At risk of their poor lives they came,
Yet knew they not her very name!
We knelt together on the mound,
Our muttered prayer scarce made a sound,
The silence seemed to lap us round.
Above us, spread a soft blue sky
The south-west wind stole softly by,
It seemed a pleasant thing to die.
Yet fear for these gat hold of me,
And I prayed them very earnestly
To leave me, lest mishap might be.
With dropping tears and soul on rack,
I watched the last one leave the track,
Then kissed the grave, and so went back.
Western lands, you are bleak and bare,
Yet the grace of God comes everywhere.
And now because her peace is deep
Great peace to mine own heart doth creep,
To stay, please God, till I too sleep.
Mary, mother, to whom we pray
Keep east and west, the green and the grey.
Both of them safe in thine arms this day,
Now and for evermore I pray.