In the graveyard gray and chill,
Veiled in shadow, hushed and still,
’Neath one drooping cypress tree,
They are laid, my darlings three—
Merry Robin, brave and bold;
Baby May, with locks of gold;
Darling Dolly, shy and fair,
With the grave-dust on her hair.
Now their joyous feet no more
Patter o’er the cottage floor;