Thou, lovely thing

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T e a r s   o f   J o y

Eternal Hills Memorial Gardens

Snellville, Georgia

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Dearest, it was a night
That in its darkness rocked Orion’s stars;
A sighing wind ran faintly white
Along the willows, and the cedar boughs
Laid their wide hands in stealthy peace across
The starry silence of their antique moss:
No sound save rushing air
Cold, yet all sweet with Spring,
And in thy mother’s arms, couched weeping there,
Thou, lovely thing.

> Walter de la Mare <

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Happy Thursday