A garden in a garden: a green spot Where all is green: most fitting slumber-place For the strong man grown weary of a race Soon over. Unto him a goodly lot Hath fallen in fertile ground; there thorns are not, But his own daisies: silence, full of grace, Surely hath shed a quiet on his face: His earth is but sweet leaves that fall and rot. What was his record of himself, ere he Went from us? @3Here lies one whose name was writ In water:@1 while the chilly shadows flit Of sweet Saint Agnes' Eve; while basil springs, His name, in every humble heart that sings, Shall be a fountain of love, verily. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LAUGHTER (YOUTH SPEAKS TO HIS OWN OLD AGE) by CONRAD AIKEN ON TALK OF PEACE AT THIS TIME by ROBERT FROST DOWN BY THE CARIB SEA: 5. THE DANCING GIRL by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: THE VILLAGE ATHEIST by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |