With musical green waves,
She went, its plumed ranks between,
Unto the hill of graves.

There you may see sweet flowers set
O'er damsels and o'er dames --
Rose, Ellen, Mary, Margaret --
The sweet old quiet names.

The gravestones show in long array,
Though white or green with moss,
How linked in Life and Death are they --
The Shamrock and the Cross.

The gravestones face the Golden East,
And in the morn they take
The blessing of the Great High Priest,
Before the living wake.

Who was she? Never ask her name,
Her beauty and her grace
Have passed, with her poor little shame,
Into the Silent Place.

In Avonaise, in Avonaise,
Where all is dead and done,
The folk who rest there all their days
Care not for moon or sun.

They care not, when the living pass,