And all lie calmly East and West Save one, which faces to the North
What cause could tangent thus a grave From all its mates? What special sign Is here that sets this blackened stone To mark the contrast of its line?
Did some long-rotting corpse desire To sleep his spirit in such way? Could bones rest straighter so until They flesh on Resurrection day?
Or did some chance or thoughtless whim Set this thick-weeded molehill here Athwart the rest, bi-polar put In latituded hemisphere?
For all lie calmly East and West Save one, which faces to the North
This is no chance nor light desire.
Here lies a monster in decay Whose crime no evil epithet Nor lynchman’s limbrope could repay.
He was well-shrived before his death: Prepared for paradise, he thought;
But priest nor pardon now can help To raise him. This man’s soul is caught.
That final day the seals are broke His soul shall pay.
The awful nod That raises dead shall let him lie—
He is not facing toward his God!