In Death Divided

I         I shall rot here, with those whom in their day          You never knew,         And alien ones who, ere they chilled to clay,          Met not my view,     Will in your distant grave-place ever neighbour you. II         No shade of pinnacle or tree or tower,          While earth endures,         Will fall on my mound and within the hour          Steal on to yours;     One robin never haunt our two green covertures. III         Some organ may resound on Sunday noons          By where you lie,         Some other thrill the panes with other tunes          Where moulder I;     No selfsame chords compose our common lullaby. IV         The simply-cut memorial at my head          Perhaps may take         A Gothic form, and that above your bed          Be Greek in make;     No linking symbol show thereon for our tale's sake. V         And in the monotonous moils of strained, hard-run          Humanity,         The eternal tie which binds us twain in one          No eye will see     Stretching across the miles that sever you from me.