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In a little graveyard in a village in County Antrim, Gracehill, lies a Moravian Graveyard. Some of my ancestors are in it, and its chronology goes back to the late eighteenth century, early nineteenth.
It is almost Gothic in appearance - huge trees cover a little lawn and gravestones line it. From children who died as infants 200+ years ago.
Very moving to read the names and to sit and think about them...

God's Acre

Fdf5205c-8b5b-4da8-a6dc-63fe28d680a9by Billy J. Stewart30 Dec 2013

In the stillness of the morning,
Under canopy of beech,
The little ones are sleeping
Safe, where Evil cannot reach.
Lullabied to leafy music,
Stooped to read the slabs of stone,
I feel them tugging at my coat-tails,
But when I turn, I am alone.
Moss grows over them,
Trees play silly games with light,
They were never meant to suffer,
From the sicknesses that blight.
Its been three centuries of passing,
Many daffodils have come and gone,
Little bones lie here forever,
Scattered under churchyard lawn.
There the children of Moravia,
Play with God on Hills of Grace,
Taken from their imperfection
Laid to rest in this fair place.