Wandering in Warriston Cemetery
“Smith contracted diphtheria in November 1866 and, although he seemed to have recovered by Christmas, was then struck down by typhus. He died at home on 5 January 1867 at the very beginning of his thirty-seventh year, and was buried in Warriston Cemetery.” Scottish Poetry Library
And whether crowned or crownless, when I fall
It matters not, so as God’s work is done.
I’ve learned to prize the quiet lightning-deed
Not the applauding thunder at its heels
Which men call Fame.
‘A Life-Drama’ sc.13 ~ Alexander Smith
“Although its heart is rich in pearls and ores,
The Sea complains upon a thousand shores” ~ Alexander Smith
Time falls asleep in afternoons of sun
There where I walked, unknowing. What I saw
Were cemetery pathways. Anyone
Could be forgotten here. Memories withdraw
Despite the granite stones. Wild bluebells wait
To be enjoyed in shadows where time sleeps
And then these blue, blue blooms fade through the gate
Of life. A century drowses on and creeps
Past those of us who walk here, all alone,
But hoping for a blast of fire to kill our doubt.
A man strolls here and there in search of moan
Or maybe passion in a stifled shout.
..The almost famous lie below the flowers
….While we attempt to wake near nameless powers.