Which sanctified the gorgeous waste around.
For a pale cross above its greensward rose,
Telling the cedars and the pines that there
Man’s heart and hope had struggled with his woes,
And lifted from the dust a voice of prayer.
Now all was hush’d—and eve’s last splendour shone
With a rich sadness on th’ attesting stone.
There came a lonely traveller o’er the wild,
And he, too, paused in reverence by that grave,
Asking the tale of its memorial, piled