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In A Disused Graveyard
The living come with grassy tread
To read the gravestones
on the hill;
The graveyard draws
the living still,
But never anymore
the dead.
The verses in it say and say:
‘The ones who living
come today
To read the stones
and go away
Tomorrow dead will
come to stay’.
So sure of death the marbles rhyme,
Yet can’t help
marking all the times
How no one dead
will seem to come.
What is it men
are shrinking from?
It would be easy to be clever
And tell the stones:
Men hate to die
And have stopped
dying now forever.
I think they would
believe the lie.
Robert Frost - 1874 - 1963
From ‘New Hampshire’ (1923)
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