I found a country graveyard,
With a rock wall all around.
The air stood still about me,
Like I walked on hallowed ground.

I brushed away the leaves,
And the brambles that had grown.
They seemed to hide away the message,
That was written on the stones.

Two stones were long and narrow
And three were rather small,
One a simple mound of earth,
A broken cross, no stone at all.

I read the words as best I could,
Though they were aged and worn.
The deaths had been within twelve days.
I sat there and silently mourned.

What fate had befallen this family?
Was it small-pox, or the plague,
That struck the parents in their prime
Nor even spared their young?

I couldn't bring myself to go,
But as I gazed down at the stones,
A sparrow perched on the broken cross,
And I knew they were never alone.