Spring cemetery

Cow parsely growing high
Among forget me not and catseye
Bluebell, dandelion, ragwort,
Bumblebee and magpie.
Among the myriads, the overcrowded
Legions of the dead, a tiny
Aristocracy of living.
A girl, desired, standing on
A grave with a guilty look, smiles and
Photographs a tree.
The dead. Less substantial than
The living, shades which merge and rapidly fade.
But they will rise, perhaps, death is nothing forever.
There is no necessity of thought,
Nothing beyond the right and the true,
Leading upwards to freedom absolute.
And for me one problem to resolve,
One final error to refute.