Far from the churchyard dig his grave, On some green mound beside the wave; To westward, sea and sky alone, And sunsets. Put a mossy stone, With mortal name and date, a harp And bunch of wild flowers, carven sharp; Then leave it free to winds that blow, And patient mosses creeping; slow, And wandering wings, and footsteps rare Of human creature pausing there. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AN ARCTIC VISION [JUNE 20, 1867] by FRANCIS BRET HARTE BIRTHDAY OF DANIEL WEBSTER by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES RIDDLE: A BLACKSMITH by MOTHER GOOSE THE VANITY OF THE WORLD by FRANCIS QUARLES THE FUGITIVE by LAWRENCE ALMA-TADEMA |