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 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 time
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
I think they would believe the lie.
Pictures taken at the Parish, Florida Cemetery locate down a dirt road on the East side of Hwy 301 marked only by a street sign. 3 u-turns required but well worth it. The Sandhill Cranes were a delight to spend part of an afternoon with.