11
Feb
09

The Graveyard Rabbit

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Stumbling across some things online are just wonderful. Here I am, an admirer of cemeteries, old ones especially and come to find out there’s an association for people like me. They are dedicated to the preservation of and education coming from old cemeteries. Genealogist’s have a special love of graveyards; finding tangible proof of ones own ancestors is a gift that cannot be matched.

So, in honor of my new blog and my association with The Graveyard Rabbits, here is the poem that gave them their name.

 

The Graveyard Rabbit

by Frank Lebby Stanton

 

 

In the white moonlight, where the willow waves,  
He halfway gallops among the graves—  
A tiny ghost in the gloom and gleam,  
Content to dwell where the dead men dream,  
 
But wary still!        
For they plot him ill;  
For the graveyard rabbit hath a charm  
(May God defend us!) to shield from harm.  
 
Over the shimmering slabs he goes—  
Every grave in the dark he knows;        
But his nest is hidden from human eye  
Where headstones broken on old graves lie.  
 
Wary still!  
For they plot him ill;  
For the graveyard rabbit, though sceptics scoff,          
Charmeth the witch and the wizard off!  
 
The black man creeps, when the night is dim,  
Fearful, still, on the track of him;  
Or fleetly follows the way he runs,  
For he heals the hurts of the conjured ones.          
 
Wary still!  
For they plot him ill;  
The soul’s bewitched that would find release,—  
To the graveyard rabbit go for peace!  
 
He holds their secret—he brings a boon          
Where winds moan wild in the dark o’ the moon;  
And gold shall glitter and love smile sweet  
To whoever shall sever his furry feet!  
 
Wary still!  
For they plot him ill;        
For the graveyard rabbit hath a charm  
(May God defend us!) to shield from harm.
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