Moonlight silvered grass and flowers,
Carven stones stood row on row,
Bells nearby hung in their tower,
Silent since no one was there.
Turn your eyes upon that mound:
New, for nothing yet will grow.
Movement now from underground;
Watch from nearer if you dare.
What is rising in the graveyard?
Coming up from down below?
Should the church have set a guard?
Could a guard have kept it there?