A new white cross has been placed at the rear of cemetery where a statute had been located. The original statue is still on the property, but it has been damaged.
I don't know, but I'm guessing it has been damaged for quite some time, and that's why it was replaced. The loss of the right arm appears new however, probably a result of it being taken down.
Does anyone know: would this be a statue of Saint Antony, the patron saint of graveyards?
There are a surprising number of small graveyards located all around Lake Wicwas, many that are now overgrown by forest and hidden from sight, forgotten by perhaps all. This one, which I discovered just this spring, is located only a few feet off Chemung road; you would drive by it every day and never know it's there.
|The grave of John L. Lawrence of New Hampshire's 12th Infantry|
There is no date on it, but the inscription of the 12th New Hampshire Infantry places it in the Civil War era. I'll see if I can find any more information about John Lawrence. The town of Meredith has an inventory of graveyards, and Harold Wyatt's book "Way out There" describes several cemeteries in the Chemung area, but not this one.
I didn't get out around the lake much this week, but I did see a couple of things worth noting, including what appears to be another sign of the neighborhood bobcat.
And our local beaver has been cruising the cove most every night, even hopping up onto the shore to look around for any of its favorites trees.
Fortunately, it doesn't seem to see anything it likes near our house.
Here's a poem for John Lawrence, of the NH 12th Infantry.
Forgotten Tombstone - Poem by Smoky HossPlanted long ago, a single old birch
barely stands behind a little country church,
there, once to show the grave
of one who passed so brave,
a fallen soldier from 1863
died to save the union and make men free,
his remembrance long lost
as is the recollection of the cost,
the price he paid
the life he gave,
for there's no one left alive
him to remember, to long for and to cry,
only a broken marker now remains
just a date, without a name,
here under this old birch tree
planted once, in grateful and fond memory.