HE passes down the churchyard track On his way to toll the bell; And stops, and looks at the graves around, And notes each finished and greening mound Complacently, As their shaper he, And one who can do it well. And, with a prosperous sense of his doing, Thinks he'll not lack Plenty such work in the long ensuing Futurity. For people will always die, And he will always be nigh To shape their cell. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WILLIE BREW'D A PECK O' MAUT by ROBERT BURNS ON THE 'VITA NUOVA' OF DANTE by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI FROLIC by GEORGE WILLIAM RUSSELL ODES: BOOK 1: ODE 18. TO THE HON. FRANCIS EARL OF HUNTINGDON by MARK AKENSIDE CHARACTERS: SARAH RIGBY by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD THE DEAD CHILD by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) |