Gordon's Grave

All the heat and the glow and the hush of the summer afternoon; the scent of the sweet-briar bush over bowing grass-blades and broom; the birds that flit and pass; singing the song he knows, the grass-hopper in the grass; the voice of the she-oak boughs. Ah, and the shattered column crowned with the poet's wreath. Who, who keeps silent and solemn his passing place beneath? ~This was a poet that loved God's breath; his life was a passionate quest; he looked down deep in the wells of death, and now he is taking his rest.~