My Grandfather Sleeps — Ernestus Jiminy Chald

This is where my Grandfather sleeps,
In a casket satin-lined.
Although he’s slept here for twenty years,
I know my Grandpa’s doing fine.
I remember the day we bore his coffin—
We six in gloves so white—
And heard the priest recite mournful verses
As my Grandpa’s coffin
Was lowered out of sight.
I remember how my Grandpa looked at his wake—
An effigy waxen and grey—
And wonder how my Grandfather would look
If I disinterred his coffin today.

 
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