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The Dead Poet ----¯---Lay garlands on his grave without a sigh; Let him lie peacefully: he is not dead; For he was one who sang with heart and head Some of God’s music, and that cannot die. A brightness of the dawn was in his eye, The smile and teardrop of the skies of May: The dawn has deepened into larger day; The smile and teardrop live abidingly. Come, plant a heaven-blue violet in the sod, And hear see the skylark soaring over him And singing: he too soaring sang to God And loved the upper light. Our eyes are dim With po tracing the high pathway that he trod. – But hush! the skylark sings his requiem. ----¯----
April 15/1885