What does it matter now? November's sere Rests on his grave, and the sad leaves, shook down, Hither and thither by the winds are blown, And whisper low the dirge, "He is not here." The distant towered city was his sphere, Where his ambition struggled for renown, Scarce won before his restless soul is flown Out of the real to ghostly atmosphere. What matters now -- a stone in Evergreen, Some scattered books his generation read, And reminiscences of light and shade? -- And yet -- this matters; in it all is seen The image of ourselves, who in his stead Still keep the field before the twilight fade. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NURSING HOME: THE CANARY by KAREN SWENSON CHILD AND MOTHER by EUGENE FIELD A DOUBTING HEART by ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER THE OLD MAN AND JIM by JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY SUNDAY MORNING by WALLACE STEVENS |