But more of them now sleep beneath the flowers,
In that sweet bed that will in time be ours.
Some heard the angel’s call ’mid youth and hope;
While others traveled half way up life’s way.
Some, while descending on the farther slope;
Others met life’s fate when their locks were gray.
But such is life—a glint of sunshine made;
A moment’s smile amid an endless shade.
And now the thread is run; this rhyme must end;
The curtain raised we must again let fall,