All about the blown wind's ways, Never unbelieving, With a mellow, antique grace, And triumphant grieving,— Came across the meadow, Went beyond the hill, Thin as any shadow, Passed my chronicle. Earth writes the epitaph, Rain and leaves wear it: — Eyes to see, lips to laugh, Are my shadows near it. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ODE ON MELANCHOLY by JOHN KEATS EPITAPHS OF THE WAR, 1914-18: A DEAD STATESMAN by RUDYARD KIPLING THE CONVENT THRESHOLD by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI MERLIN AND THE GLEAM by ALFRED TENNYSON COMPANY COMMANDER by GUILLAUME APOLLINAIRE THE GROANS OF THE TANKARD by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |