'I Would Rather Be An Angel Than God!'
The Voice Of The Speaker Sounded clearly Through The Hawthorn Tree.
The Young Man And The Young Girl Who Sat Together On The Low
Tombstone Looked at Each Other. They Had Heard The Voices Of The Two
Children Talking, But Had Not Noticed what They Said; It Was The
Sentiment, Not The Sound, Which Roused their Attention.
The Girl Put Her Finger To Her Lips To Impress Silence, And The Man
Nodded; They Sat As Still As Mice Whilst The Two Children Went On
The Scene Would Have Gladdened a Painter'S Heart. An Old Churchyard.
The Church Low And Square-Towered, With Long Mullioned windows, The
Yellow-Grey Stone Roughened by Age And Tender-Hued with Lichens.
Round It Clustered many Tombstones Tilted in all Directions. Behind
The Church A Line Of Gnarled and Twisted yews.
The Churchyard Was Full Of Fine Trees. On One Side A Magnificent
Cedar; On The Other A Great Copper Beech. Here And There Among The
Tombs And Headstones Many Beautiful Blossoming trees Rose From The
Long Green Grass. The Laburnum Glowed in the June Afternoon
Sunlight; The Lilac, The Hawthorn And The Clustering meadowsweet
Which Fringed the Edge Of The Lazy Stream Mingled their Heavy
Sweetness In sleepy Fragrance. The Yellow-Grey Crum