The Mound By The Lake

by Herman Melville

　　

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The grass shall never forget this grave.When homeward footing it in the sun After the weary ride by rail,The stripling soldiers passed her door, Wounded perchance, or wan and pale,She left her household work undone—Duly the wayside table spread, With evergreens shaded, to regaleEach travel-spent and grateful one.So warm her heart—childless—unwed,Who like a mother comforted.

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