HARD by the ruined kirk above the sound Among worn headstones, old Sir Alan lies: ?------- of rich grapes buries him around; And thou mays't see the birds withouten fear Trip on his face and treble in his ear, And round his senseless head buzzy summer flies. Close by from out a trumpet comes a scroll, Between a skull and crossbones carven deep, And on the scroll, these words -- "The dead shall rise." Till when whoever, under summer skies Shall see the place that guards his quiet sleep, From ----- ----- for a bed so held at rest Amongst the lap of mountains, shall suggest 'Tis better with his body than his soul. |