Bells and Pomegranates, Second Series/Earth's Immortalities
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ee, as the prettiest graves will do in time,Our poet's wants the freshness of its prime;Spite of the sexton's browsing horse, the sodsHave struggled through its binding osier rods;Headstone and half-sunk footstone lean awry,Wanting the brick-work promised by-and-by;How the minute grey lichens, plate o'er plate,Have softened down the crisp-cut name and date! So, the year's done with(Love me for ever!)All March begun with,April's endeavour;May-wreaths that bound meJune needs must sever;Now snows fall round me,Quenching June's fever—(Love me for ever!)
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