html.skin-theme-clientpref-night @media(prefers-color-scheme:dark){html.skin-theme-clientpref-os }Out on the top of yonder hill,
There is a little grave,
Where everything is sweet and still,
Where windy pine trees wave.
Beautiful birds their anthems sing,
And gay colored flowers bloom,
All around where Katie sleeps,
As if to chase away all gloom.
I might easily forget her,
For 'tis years since we laid her there,
And naught remains to remind us of her
But a silken curl of hair.
But none of us forget her,
With her lovely form so fair,
We think we yet see the smiling face,
If it is years since we laid her there.
[Aged 13 years.]