IN after days when grasses high
O'er-top the stone where I shall lie,
 Though ill or well the world adjust
 My slender claim to honour'd dust,
I shall not question nor reply.

I shall not see the morning sky;
I shall not hear the night-wind sigh;
 I shall be mute, as all men must
 In after days!

But yet, now living, fain would I
That some one then should testify,
 Saying--'He held his pen in trust
 To Art, not serving shame or lust.'
Will none?--Then let my memory die
 In after days!