Show I Uncle X Walt The Poetic Philosopher 7 I It was a bent and withered knave who labored in a fro frozen en grave fa e with all his grisly tools and muttered with his wintry ton tongue e Tb They y come to me sue theold the theold theold old the young roun the tho children from the schools schoos they come conic to fo THE TilE SEXTON me mc among the tombs with sable steeds and nodding plumes plum V the sightless an and the dumb from Jowly lowly huts buts with crumbling walls from irom palaces with sculptured halls they come to me mc me they come The They shun me mo in the li light ht of da day for I with dust of tombs am gray ray a thing t fear to men meD but when the lon long ni night bt closes in on pomp and vanity and s they seek the tho sexton then Jn In winters winter's cold and summers summer's heat beat from country lane and city street from vineyard and from slum from gay ay saloon and house honsa of woe woe from places hi high b. b and places low they come to me they come 7 stranger strang-er stalked amon among the tho graves gracs and called this dreariest of knaves es H name is Death said he he earl and I and when I call a soul away even en the sexton ti jj t obey obey so so come my fr friend end with me Copyright 1909 by George Matthew Adams |