“Pray tell me the name of the tenant who sleeps
’Neath yonder lone shade where the sad willow weeps;
Every stone is engrav’d with the name of the dead,
But yon black slab declares not whose spirit is fled.”
In silence he bow’d, then beckon’d me nigh,
Till we stood o’er the grave—then he said with a sigh,
“Yes, they dare not to trace e’en a word on this stone,
To the memory of him who sleeps coldly alone;
He told them—commanded—the lines o’er his grave,
Should never be traced by the hand of a slave!