Chapter 279 THE FORGOTTEN GRAVE.

After a hundred years

Nobody knows the place, -

Agony, that enacted there,

Motionless as peace.

Weeds triumphant ranged,

Strangers strolled and spelled

At the lone orthography

Of the elder dead.

Winds of summer fields

Recollect the way, -

Instinct picking up the key

Dropped by memory.

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