Jessie B. Rittenhouse, ed. (1869–1948). The Second Book of Modern Verse. 1922.

God’s Acre

BECAUSE we felt there could not be

A mowing in reality

So white and feathery-blown and gay

With blossoms of wild caraway,

I said to Celia, “Let us trace

The secret of this pleasant place!”

We knew some deeper beauty lay

Below the bloom of caraway,

And when we bent the white aside

We came to paupers who had died:

Rough wooden shingles row on row,

And God’s name written there—John Doe.