At the Grave of a Suicide

You sat in judgment on him, — you, whose feet
Were set in pleasant places ; you, who found
The Bitter Cup he dared to break still sweet,
And shut him from your consecrated ground.
Come, if you think the dead man sleeps a whit
Less soundly in his grave,—come, look, I pray:
A violet has consecrated it.
Henceforth you need not fear to walk this way.
S. M. B. Piatt.