At Sunset. Dalry Cemetery.
O gracious peace and silence, where voices lose their power.
The setting sun brings darkness to the last awaiting hours,
With Lords and paupers stilled, together till the light
Where ‘er they are in consciousness, God speed to them tonight.
By Biggarts’ son or Uncle John. Youth and age does lie,
For the wall between the old and new, lies strong in earthly eyes.
But somewhere else upon the shores, Dalry does rise again,
where no walls or tombs pervade, religion, class or kin,
And as our thoughts rise higher, away from bricks and stone.
That new Dalry will one by one come to take us home.
There at the crossings full of folk who long ago were ken’t.
Again the tears of union declares the time well spent.