(The site of the Battle of Lundy’s Lane in 1814)
The brooding voice of spring is in the air,
The mighty winds are hushed, are very still;
Within a burial ground I wind my way —
A sunny place upon a sunny hill.
I fain would read a legend here and there,
But Time has passed with his erasing hand;
And, on the battered stones that head these graves,
The half-intelligible letters stand.
The peace of God, which no man understands,
Beams kindly down upon the greening sod,
And, underneath, where sacred ashes lie
Of those who‘ve gone before to meet their God.
Full many an unknown spirit lies at peace
With heart against the earth‘s warm heart close-pressed:
Their dust, as ashes of the rose that lie,
Its perfume gone, fallen to earth‘s soft breast.
The summer sky is kind to all alike,
And over all the skies are fair and clear;
And, in the solemn stillness of this hour,
It seems as if I were intruding here.
But no resentment these poor ashes feel,
For God has called their souls from here below;
And in this hour He speaks to my lone soul —
He seems to call and I could wish ‘twere so.
But God has measured out my length of days,
And His sweet will is all in all to me.
O Father, guide my thoughts, my life, my soul,
To thy great glory, till Thou callest me!
Source: Kevin McCabe, ed. The Poetry of Old Niagara. St. Catharines, Ont. : Blarney Stone Books, 1999.
Originally published: Ada Elizabeth Fuller. Sunshine and Shadow. Niagara Falls, 1919.