Fragment - A poem by Albert Bigelow Paine

Fragment.

THE prayer is said, the hymn is sung,
The calm dead face from us is hid^___
The solemn knell is sadly rung,
The clods fall on the coffin lid.

It is an autumn afternoon^___
The blue-fringed gentian nods its head
Above the open grave that soon
Will rise between us and the dead.

I gaze upon the heap of ground
That hides my last, my dearest friend^___
This tearful throng, this silent mound,
Is this the end, is this the end?

^__Albert Bigelow Paine.