When I lie where shades of darkness Shall no more assail mine eyes,
Nor the rain make lamentation When the wind sighs;
How will fare the world whose wonder Was the very proof of me?
Memory fades, must the remembered Perishing be?
Oh, when this my dust surrenders Hand, foot, lip, to dust again,
May these loved and loving faces Please other men!
May the rusting harvest hedgerow Still the Traveller's Joy entwine,
And as happy children gather Posies once mine.
Look thy last on all things lovely,
Every hour.
Let no night Seal thy sense in deathly slumber Till to delight Thou have paid thy utmost blessing;
Since that all things thou wouldst praise Beauty took from those who loved them In other days.
