Threnody for a Poet by Bliss Carman — Read

Not in the ancient abbey, / Nor in the city ground, / Not in the lonely mountains, / Nor in the blue profound, / Lay him to rest when his time is come / And the smiling mortal lips are dumb;

But here in the decent quiet / Under the whispering pines, / Where the dogwood breaks in blossom / And the peaceful sunlight shines, / Where wild birds sing and ferns unfold, / When spring comes back in her green and gold.

And when that mortal likeness / Has been dissolved by fire, / Say not above the ashes, / "Here ends a man's desire. " / For every year when the bluebirds sing, / He shall be part of the lyric spring.

Then dreamful-hearted lovers / Shall hear in wind and rain / The cadence of his music, / The rhythm of his refrain, / For he was a blade of the April sod / That bowed and blew with the whisper of God.