The Crosses [Little lonely crosses, the crosses low and white]

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Title:     The Crosses [Little lonely crosses, the crosses low and white]
Author: Virna Sheard [More Titles by Sheard]

The little lonely crosses, the crosses low and white,
They haunt me most in the silver hour
That lies against the night;
Or when the rose-dusk dawn comes in,
With a star for candlelight.

The little lonely crosses in fields so far away,
They cast a shadow on my path--
And, take which road I may,
It follows, follows, follows--
Throughout the livelong day.

O little lonely crosses that gentle hands have made,
You mean to us forevermore
The price that has been paid
For a heritage of Freedom,
And a People unafraid.

So, as a Pilgrim to his shrine, in dreams I rise and go,
To find the poppied place of sleep,
And the crosses row on row;
The crosses carved with names beloved,
The crosses white and low.

[The end]
Virna Sheard's poem: Crosses

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