But, 'twas something to see its cliffs once more,
And to lay his bones on his own loved shore;
To think, that the friends of his youth might weep,
O'er the green grass turf of the soldier's sleep.
"The Soldier's Funeral " by Letitia Elizabeth Landon
There's a quiet dell, unknown save to Love and me alone,
Where the Springtime enters first, and where Summer holds her throne;
Where I kneel at eve and weep tears that never thrill your sleep,
Only keep your grave-grass green in Glen Moylena.
"Glen Moylena" by Anna Johnston MacManus