My heart was heavy, for its trust had been br Abused, its kindness answered with foul wrong; br So, turning gloomily from my fellow-men, br One summer Sabbath day I strolled among br The green mounds of the village burial-place; br Where, pondering how all human love and hate br Find one sad level; and how, soon or late, br Wronged and wrongdoer, each with meekened face, br And cold hands folded over a still heart, br Pass the green threshold of our common grave, br Whither all footsteps tend, whence none depart, br Awed for myself, and pitying my race, br Our common sorrow, like a mighty wave, br Swept all my pride away, and trembling I forgave!br br John Greenleaf Whittierbr br