In a Churchyard

Oft in the lone church yard at night I've seen,
By glimpse of moonshine chequering thro' the trees,
The school boy, with his satchel in his hand,
Whistling aloud to bear his courage up,
And lightly tripping o'er the long flat stones,
(With nettles skirted, and with moss o'ergrown,)
That tell in homely phrase who lie below.
Sudden he starts, and hears, or thinks he hears,
The sound of something purring at his heels;
Full fast he flies, and dare not look behind him,
'Till, out of breath, he overtakes his fellows,
Who gather round and wonder at the tale
Of horrid apparition tall and ghastly,
That walks at dead of night, or takes his stand
O'er some new-open'd grave; and (strange to tell!)
Evanishes at crowing of the cock

The Grave by Robert Blair


It's such a dreary day I thought the only thing to do was take a walk around the graveyard. Despite being a Norman church the graves all date from 1800's and most aren't in good condition. This cross was lying under the branches of a tree. It seemed to say more about the graveyard than any of the other stones. The neglect of the stones themselves but the immaculate condition of the lawn and surrounding areas.

I looked at the pictures when I got home and found myself drawn to this. The picture hasn't been altered apart from a slight cropping. There is a real illusion of the cross almost lifting off the ground and floating in the air. My daughter declared it 'spooky'. The poem seemed to be rather appropriate.