Here you will find the Poem Garden-Spot of poet Dorothy Parker
God's acre was her garden-spot, she said; She sat there often, of the Summer days, Little and slim and sweet, among the dead, Her hair a fable in the leveled rays. She turned the fading wreath, the rusted cross, And knelt to coax about the wiry stem. I see her gentle fingers on the moss Now it is anguish to remember them. And once I saw her weeping, when she rose And walked a way and turned to look around- The quick and envious tears of one that knows She shall not lie in consecrated ground.