“In After Days.”
In after days, when grasses high
O’er-top the stone where I shall lie,
Though ill or well the world adjust
My slender claim to honoured dust,
I shall not question nor reply.
I shall not see the morning sky,
I shall not hear the night-wind sigh,
I shall be mute, as all men must
In after days!
But yet, now living, fain were I
That some one then should testify,
Saying—He held his pen in trust
To Art, not serving shame or lust.
Will none?... Then let my memory die
In after days!
Austin Dobson.