Elegy Before Death

There will be rose and rhododendron                  When you are dead and under ground;              Still will be heard from white syringas                  Heavy with bees, a sunny sound;              Still will the tamaracks be raining                  After the rain has ceased, and still              Will there be robins in the stubble,                  Brown sheep upon the warm green hill.              Spring will not ail nor autumn falter;                  Nothing will know that you are gone,              Saving alone some sullen plough-land                  None but yourself sets foot upon;              Saving the may-weed and the pig-weed                  Nothing will know that you are dead,--              These, and perhaps a useless wagon                  Standing beside some tumbled shed.              Oh, there will pass with your great passing                  Little of beauty not your own,--              Only the light from common water,                  Only the grace from simple stone!