The Grave.

다국어 초록 (Multilingual Abstract)

  It was a pleasant evening in November, that I entered the grave-yard; the moon shone in her midnight meridian; not a cloud was visible in the firmsave one dark and heavy, that hung in the west, and portended wind and rain. Musing and wandering among the graves, I paused over that of my mother. No costly marble reared its head, to tell that the slumberer beneath had once been great; it was marked by nought but the plain simple stone, that stood at the head; and the willow, that had been planted by the hand of love and friendship, hung silently over it; not a leaf stirred, save some that were nipped by the pinching frosts of autumn from the tree, and as they slowly descended to the earth, were silent monitors of the approach of winter, and decay of man.