Flowers for the Dead, Love for the Living: A Poem

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486 IMPROVEMENT ERA.

the snow or in the ground, we trace in characters more or less enduring, the record of progress." Not even the rocks of earth forget their past; shall it be said that the human soul is less retentive? No! the fossils of by-gone days are brought forth to testify to what once was present and vital. Grateful may we be that there is a possibility of making the later records tell of progress and advancement, that thereby the errors and sins of earlier days may be offset and cancelled though they cannot be obliterated. Habits are the accumulated effects of separate acts, and every act leaves its record in body, mind, and soul. Like a scroll is the history of the past rolled up; as a scroll will it be spread, open, and wide on the judgment day. No! we do not, cannot forget.

FLOWERS FOR THE DEAD LOVE FOR THE LIVING. ;

BY SARAH E. PEARSON.

Oh, who was there, among the friends of yore, Upon this day of days, when lowly mounds Of sacred dust are visited and decked With ferns and fragrant flowers, watered o'er With sad regretful rosaries of tears, For love of me, and love of those who loved me, And my love for them, one blossom strewed Upon the graves of my lamented dead? Who, when they walked with hushed and rev'rent tread Among the peaceful sleepers in God's Acre, Their trembling, tear-filled voices murmuring low, Recounting graces of the absent dead, Recalled the absent living with as much Of tenderness and sorrow ? Remembered that the friend, Who erstwhile walked with them that sacred grove In bonds of sympathy and sisterhood. May never, nevermore in all the years. Again clasp hands; nor look into their eyes; Nor voice the thought of love; nor shed the tear Of grief upon the graves of our beloved!