Bridgnorth Cemetery

O TRANQUIL spot ! O vale of perfect rest !
With strangely soothing peace art thou endowed ;
The turmoil of the world's tumultuous crowd
Mars not thy sanctity so richly blest.
But hark ! those dulcet chimes that from the west
Come stealing o'er thee, as from heaven o'erflowed,
Seeming to make thy peace more holy. Bowed
In silent awe, in sombre garments drest,

The fond protecting hills kneel solemnly ;
The fir-trees, with down-drooping branches spread,
Are guardian angels hovering over thee,
To whisper tender requiems for the dead.
Methinks that were my body resting here,
My spirit would forever linger near.

Written by
Edward F. Joyce  



Taken from a limited edition 1920 publication.