FOREBODING

The scarlet briars trailed across

The grave I journeyed far to see;

Upon the stone, half hid in moss,

“Prepare for death, and follow me.”

The birds flew southward down the sky;

Upon a golden linden tree

The leaves that fluttered seemed to sigh,

“Prepare for death, and follow me.”

My father’ s father slept below

So dreamless deep and silently,

I spelled the message soft and slow,

“Prepare for death, and follow me.”

— Ah me!’ twas years ago the birds

Fled swift o’ er that far golden tree;

And wherefore now come back these words,

“Prepare for death, and follow me”?