Flower plot | Rectory Lane Cemetery, Berkhamsted

Rectory Lane Cemetery, Berkhamsted

Flower plot


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Memorial details

Family name Flower
Burial date Not known
Burial capacity Not known
Burial depth Not known
From burial books?
Burial visible (2019)?
Burial visible (1991)?   

To the memory of
Edward Hervé
The beloved of son of
Cornelius and Emily Flower
Who died 22nd of April 1860
Aged 6 years


Gone of God be still my heart what could a mother’s prayer
in all the wildest ecstacy of hope
ask for her darling like the bliss of heaven


In memory also of 
Cornelius Henry
Brother of the above
Interred in Northampton cemetery

Cornelius the beloved husband of
Emily Flower
Died the 5th of May 1865
In his 41st year

The moving epitaph inscribed on the headstone uses lines from “The Lost Darling”, a poem by Mrs. Sigourney, the American poet Lydia Huntley Sigourney (1791–1865):

The Lost Darling
She was my idol – Night and day to scan
The fine expansion of her form, and mark
The unfolding mind like vernal rose-bud start
To sudden beauty, was my chief delight.

To find her fairy footsteps following me –
Her hand upon m garments – or her lip
Long sealed to mine – and in the watch of night
The quiet breath of innocence to feel 
Soft on my cheek – was such a full content
Of happiness, as none but mothers know.

Her voice was like some tiny harp that yields
To the slight-finger’d breeze – and as it held
Long converse with her doll, kindly or soothed
Her moaning kitten, or with patient care
Conn’d over the alphabet – but most of all
Its tender cadence in her evening prayer,
Thrill’d on the ear like some ethereal tone
Heard in sweet dreams.

But now I sit alone,
Musing of her – and dew with mournful tears
The little robes that once with woman’s pride
I wrought, as if there was a need to deck
What God has made so beautiful. I start –
Half fancying from her empty crib there comes
A restless sound, and breathe the accustom’d words,
“Hush, hush, Louisa, dearest – Then I weep,
As though it were a sin to speak to one
Whose home is with the angels –
Gone to God!

And yet I wish I had not seen the pang
That wrung her features, nor the ghastly white
Settling around her lips. I would that Heaven
Had taken its own like some transplanted flower,
Blooming in all its freshness.
Gone to God!

Be still my heart! – what could a mother’s prayer
In all its wildest ecstasy of hope,
Ask for its darling like the bliss of heaven?



Condition: good


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In Memoriam

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Further reading