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The Spirit of Evergreen Cemetery

I am the spirit of Evergreen,
the cemetery draped with Spanish moss.
Come sit for a while, I'll tell you what I've seen,
though much of it deals with loss.

I've been here since the early days,
just after Perry, Georgia was founded.
The funerals I've seen, you'd be amazed;
the sermons, the songs, the cries that have sounded.

Some of my occupants' names you'll recall;
they were Perry's earliest pioneers.
Now streets bear their names, but saddest of all,
their flowers have decreased, after all these years.

A stroll through my grounds can often evoke
the peaceful sound of my spirit;
but mostly a child or older of folk
are the only ones able to hear it.

A squirrel running up a cedar tree,
the moss dancing in the gentle breeze.
These are things of utter beauty;
the magnificent colors of autumn leaves.

Some of the trees reach ninety feet tall,
and have been here for longer than I.
Now a stone archway, a sundial and all,
add class to this place by the creek where it lies.

The towering monuments now numbering many,
have gathered their share of scars and mildew.
But among all the sights, I'm as grand as any;
my winding roads circle this spectacular view.

William A. Mills


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