DEATH AND LIFE

The long, dark slope is topped with mist,

But here the sun is on the grass:

Beneath, the sea-waves break, and twist

Backward like snakes of molten glass.

Across an ancient sand-heaped wall

The foot thro’ graves forgotten goes,

And stops where old, old voices call

Thro’ generations of repose.

But where a sorrow of to-day

Has set a freshly-fashioned mound,

A bird slides down his airy way

And makes the silence ring with sound.