All the heat and the glow and the hush
of the summer afternoon;
the scent of the sweet-briar bush
over bowing gra**-blades and broom;
the birds that flit and pa**;
singing the song he knows,
the gra**-hopper in the gra**;
the voice of the she-oak boughs.
Ah, and the shattered column
crowned with the poet's wreath.
Who, who keeps silent and solemn
his pa**ing place beneath?
~This was a poet that loved God's breath;
his life was a pa**ionate quest;
he looked down deep in the wells of d**h,
and now he is taking his rest.~