What does it matter now? November's sere Rests on his grave, and the sad leaves, shook down, Hither and thither by the winds are blown, And whisper low the dirge, "He is not here." The distant towered city was his sphere, Where his ambition struggled for renown, Scarce won before his restless soul is flown Out of the real to ghostly atmosphere. What matters now -- a stone in Evergreen, Some scattered books his generation read, And reminiscences of light and shade? -- And yet -- this matters; in it all is seen The image of ourselves, who in his stead Still keep the field before the twilight fade. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PICTURES OF MEMORY by ALICE CARY THE VISION (1) by ROBERT HERRICK THE PRESENT CRISIS by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL TO A BUTTERFLY (1) by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH THE ARGONAUTS (ARGONATUICA): REMORSE by APOLLONIUS RHODIUS THE UNKNOWN HAND by CLIFFORD BAX FRAGMENTS INTENDED FOR DEATH'S JEST-BOOK: DIRGE by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES |