All the heat and the glow and the hush 
   of the summer afternoon; 
the scent of the sweet-briar bush 
   over bowing grass-blades and broom; 

the birds that flit and pass; 
   singing the song he knows, 
the grass-hopper in the grass; 
   the voice of the she-oak boughs. 

Ah, and the shattered column 
   crowned with the poet's wreath. 
Who, who keeps silent and solemn 
   his passing place beneath? 

~This was a poet that loved God's breath; 
   his life was a passionate quest; 
he looked down deep in the wells of death, 
   and now he is taking his rest.~