Dying alone of hunger, lost
With buried wealth they had not earned,
Dead dross that with their death they bought,
Theirs to a cold Eternity!
And as the stranger rose and stood,
Thinking upon their agony, -
Forgotten silver, gold, and gem, -
And staring at their mouldering bones,
Above him rattled many stones,
And half his light by dark was crossed.
A horror seized his blood, as though
He too were shut forever there.
He touched not of the gilded prize,
But rushed, and scaled the ragged hole,
Now choked with bowlders fallen in,
Read more in News
A Senior's Souvenir.