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...DOWN BY THE CARIB SEA: 4. THE LOTTERY GIRL by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON THE SEASONS by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE by EMMA LAZARUS IN A SWEDISH GRAVEYARD by EMMA LAZARUS FREE FANTASIA ON JAPANESE THEMES by AMY LOWELL |