The Unknown grave By David H. Smith (Posthumous son of Joseph Smith)
There ‘s an unknown grave in a green lowly spot,
The form that it covers will ne’er be forgot.
Where have trees spread and the wild locust wave
Their fragrant white blooms over the unknown grave
Over the unknown grave.
And near by its side does the wild rabbit tread,
While over its bosom the wild thistles spread.
As if in their kindness to guard and to save
From man’s soot-step intruding the unknown grave,
Guarding the unknown grave.
The heavens may weep and the thunders moan low,
Or the bright sun-shine and the soft breezes blow,
Unheeding the heart, one responsive and brave,
Of the one who sleeps there in the unknown grave.
Low in an unknown grave.
The prophet whose life was destroyed by his foes
Sleeps now where no hand may disturb his repose.
Till trumpets of God drown the notes of the wave
And we see him arise from his unknown grave,
God bless that unknown grave.
The love all embracing that never can end,
In death, as in life, knew him well as a friend,
The power of, Jesus the mighty to save
Will despoil of its treasure the unknown grave,
No more an unknown grave.
(From David H Smith Hesperis,, A book of Poems, Plano, Illinois 1875)