Old Carbon's Unmarked Graves
Page by Gary Beaver with contributions from Bob Leathers
Nameless
A beautiful child entered the world
And touched the hearts of many.
Left this place at a time unknown
Now pain and grief are over.
Nameless through the ravages of time
With loving memories now fading.
by Gary Beaver
A beautiful child entered the world
And touched the hearts of many.
Left this place at a time unknown
Now pain and grief are over.
Nameless through the ravages of time
With loving memories now fading.
by Gary Beaver
For the living know that they will die, but the dead know nothing; they have no further reward, and even their name is forgotten. (Ecclesiastes 9:5)
The fear of death follows from the fear of life.
A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time.
Mark Twain
A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time.
Mark Twain
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
by Mary Elizabeth Frye
Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am the sun on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there; I did not die.
by Mary Elizabeth Frye
Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am the sun on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there; I did not die.
CARBON
O, Carbon, how we loved you, forty years ago today;
No one dream’t, old Carbon, that you weren’t on the map to stay.
You were prosperous and thriving, and the people held their own;
Who could tell them that today you’d be standing there alone?
Bright lights glittered in the night-time, and the days were busy, too;
Dark clouds always slighted Carbon, and her skies were always blue!
Such a jovial crowd of pioneers were seldom found--
And they’d braved the wilderness of the West to old Wyoming’s ground.
Snows or Indians could not scare them, for they had a world of grit;
This frontier life held charm—for heroes do not quit.
There you know’d everybody, and they all know’d you;
No one cared a penny what the other one would do.
The women dressed in calico, the men wore old-time jeans;
All of them were genuine and lived within their means.
They traveled with a team and rig—autos were unknown;
And just imagine these plain folks talking o’er a phone!
They hadn’t any phonograph, but danced after a fiddle;
The halls were always crowded—where they came from was a riddle.
They danced old-fashioned steps and sang old-fashioned tunes,
And they strolled in the silvery light of real old-fashioned moons.
Times have changed beyond description, and they have scattered one and all;
Some have gone to other countries; some have gone beyond recall.
And Carbon, you are shattered; you are dead, you are no more,
And the sight of you, dear Carbon, makes our heart ache to the core.
When we go to where you flourished, our spirits are depressed,
To think this hopeless wreck of now was once the very best.
Your houses are all tumbling down, the windows are broken out,
The doors are standing there ajar, the gophers run about.
The streets are full of tumble weeds, the bridges have fallen in,
And quiet reigns where at one time was industry and din;
The coyotes come within the wreck of this down-trodden place,
And howl in cheerless, mournful tones—there’s no one to give chase.
The sly jack-rabbits rack away and hide ‘mid the ruins there,
And o’er the whole of Carbon now is the attitude of despair;
The sagebrush flat is just as green, the hills slope toward the sky,
And Carbon now reminds us of the fact that all things die.
It used to be that spring winds made music in the air,
But now the night winds sob and sigh around the chimneys bare;
Out on the side hill north of town, a silent city lies,
Where monuments and blocks of stone among the graves arise.
‘Tis here that old-time Carbonites return to add another,
For here are resting old and young, the baby and the mother.
‘Tis here that many pioneers of these old times are sleeping;
‘Tis here that some good angel o’er the dead a watch is keeping.
So, fare you well, old Carbon, you are crumbling to the dust,
And our hearts ache at your downfall—which we cannot think is just;
And although you’re past redemption, still we reverence your name,
And always, dear old Carbon, we will love you just the same.
From Hanna Pioneer (UPCCEM, February 1928)
No one dream’t, old Carbon, that you weren’t on the map to stay.
You were prosperous and thriving, and the people held their own;
Who could tell them that today you’d be standing there alone?
Bright lights glittered in the night-time, and the days were busy, too;
Dark clouds always slighted Carbon, and her skies were always blue!
Such a jovial crowd of pioneers were seldom found--
And they’d braved the wilderness of the West to old Wyoming’s ground.
Snows or Indians could not scare them, for they had a world of grit;
This frontier life held charm—for heroes do not quit.
There you know’d everybody, and they all know’d you;
No one cared a penny what the other one would do.
The women dressed in calico, the men wore old-time jeans;
All of them were genuine and lived within their means.
They traveled with a team and rig—autos were unknown;
And just imagine these plain folks talking o’er a phone!
They hadn’t any phonograph, but danced after a fiddle;
The halls were always crowded—where they came from was a riddle.
They danced old-fashioned steps and sang old-fashioned tunes,
And they strolled in the silvery light of real old-fashioned moons.
Times have changed beyond description, and they have scattered one and all;
Some have gone to other countries; some have gone beyond recall.
And Carbon, you are shattered; you are dead, you are no more,
And the sight of you, dear Carbon, makes our heart ache to the core.
When we go to where you flourished, our spirits are depressed,
To think this hopeless wreck of now was once the very best.
Your houses are all tumbling down, the windows are broken out,
The doors are standing there ajar, the gophers run about.
The streets are full of tumble weeds, the bridges have fallen in,
And quiet reigns where at one time was industry and din;
The coyotes come within the wreck of this down-trodden place,
And howl in cheerless, mournful tones—there’s no one to give chase.
The sly jack-rabbits rack away and hide ‘mid the ruins there,
And o’er the whole of Carbon now is the attitude of despair;
The sagebrush flat is just as green, the hills slope toward the sky,
And Carbon now reminds us of the fact that all things die.
It used to be that spring winds made music in the air,
But now the night winds sob and sigh around the chimneys bare;
Out on the side hill north of town, a silent city lies,
Where monuments and blocks of stone among the graves arise.
‘Tis here that old-time Carbonites return to add another,
For here are resting old and young, the baby and the mother.
‘Tis here that many pioneers of these old times are sleeping;
‘Tis here that some good angel o’er the dead a watch is keeping.
So, fare you well, old Carbon, you are crumbling to the dust,
And our hearts ache at your downfall—which we cannot think is just;
And although you’re past redemption, still we reverence your name,
And always, dear old Carbon, we will love you just the same.
From Hanna Pioneer (UPCCEM, February 1928)