<h2><SPAN name="chap63"></SPAN>SLEEPY HOLLOW, CONCORD</h2>
<p class="poem">
Four graves there are upon the wooded crest,<br/>
Each one a shrine to pilgrims ever dear.<br/>
Uncovered, mute, are those who tarry here.<br/>
Romance’s dreaming master lies at rest<br/>
Beneath the cedars. Near is one whose breast<br/>
Held Mother Nature’s lore. Beyond, the seer<br/>
And sage. There, one who saw her duty clear,<br/>
Her name by little men and women blessed.<br/>
<br/>
Four friends who walked in Concord’s pleasant ways<br/>
Long years ago. They dwelt and worked apart,<br/>
But now the world has crowned them with its bays,<br/>
And holds them close forever to its heart.<br/>
O, sacred hill! There Genius, guarding stays,<br/>
And from its slopes shall never Love depart!<br/></p>
<p class="left">
JOHN CLAIR MINOT</p>
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