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...AFTER THE BURIAL by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL ARIZONA SUMMER by ELEANOR BALDWIN TEMPORALL SUCCESS by JOSEPH BEAUMONT SILENUS IN PROTEUS by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES AN INFANTRYMAN by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |