A Gravestone

Far from the churchyard dig his grave,

On some green mound beside the wave;

To westward, sea and sky alone,

And sunsets.

Put a mossy stone,

With mortal name and date, a harp And bunch of wild flowers, carven sharp;

Then leave it free to winds that blow,

And patient mosses creeping; slow,

And wandering wings, and footsteps rare Of human creature pausing there.