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.