• Sonnet

    A lone body, laid to rest in the ground
    Reintroduced to his fam'ly above.
    Those left behind walk again by the mound,
    He left them weeping; He left as a dove.

    Those flowers, He thinks, are beauty by far,
    I am pleased with their gift, their love for me.
    I shall watch o'er them, their hope ne'er mar,
    Watching o'er them I shall, o'er here I see.

    Those flower shall stay, in thought, not life
    For the thought shan't destroy as the world does
    It stays, yet it won't stay, it stays through strife,
    And yet it stays, forevermore because

    The lone body is at rest in the grave
    To rest. 'Til judgment day, when He will save.