Complete. So - what is the strory behind this - and what will happen next?
Half hidden in a graveyard
In the blackness of a yew
Where never living creature stirs
Nor sunbeam pierces through,
Is a tomb, lichened and crooked –
Its faded legend gone –
With but one rain-worn cherub’s head
Of mouldering stone.
There, when dusk is falling
A figure oft appears
Though home fires may be calling
As dark night nears.
But the stranger in the fading light
Is far away from home
And is careless of oncoming night,
Relishes the gloom.
It approaches the old gravestone,
Pauses, bends to read.
The place is overgrown
And framed with grass and weed.
A hat removed, a collar turned,
A female face revealed;
A torch switched on: what can be learned
From that which time has sealed?
She bends towards the grave. She kneels
Her fingers brush the stone
And the carven characters reveal
The name that she has known.
The proof is here. It’s carved in stone.
Her eyes are bright with tears
But there will be a reckoning
After all these years…