WITH saintly grace and reverent tread br She walked among the graves with me; br Her every footfall seemed to be br A benediction on the dead. br br The guardian spirit of the place br She seemed, and I some ghost forlorn, br Surprised by the untimely morn br She made with her resplendent face. br br Moved by some waywardness of will, br Three paces from the path apart br She stepped and stood—my prescient heart br Was stricken with a passing chill. br br My child-lore of the years agone br Remembering, I smiled and thought, br “Who shudders suddenly at naught, br His grave is being trod upon.” br br But now I know that it was more br Than idle fancy.