We ’ll not weep for summer over,—
No, not we:
Strew above his head the clover,—
Let him be!
Other eyes may weep his dying,
Shed their tears
There upon him, where he ’s lying
With his peers.
Unto some of them he proffered
Gifts most sweet;
For our hearts a grave he offered...
All ye who have gained the haven of safe days,
And rest at ease, your wanderings being done,
Except the last, inevitable one,
Be well content, I say, and hear men’s praise:
Yet in the quiet of your sheltered bays,—
Bland waters shining in an equal sun,—
Forget not that the awful storm-tides run
In far, unsheltered, and tempestuous...
Keen was the air, the sky was very light,
Soft with shed snow my garden was, and white,
And, walking there, I heard upon the night
Sudden sound of little voices,
Just the prettiest of noises.
It was the strangest, subtlest, sweetest sound,
It seemed above me, seemed upon the ground,
Then swiftly seemed to eddy round and round,...
