Is he gone to a land of no laughter—
This man that made mirth for us all?
Proves Death but a silence hereafter,
Where the echoes of earth cannot fall?
Once closed, have the lips no more duty?
No more pleasure the exquisite ears?
Has the heart done o'erflowing with beauty,
As the eyes have with tears?
Nay, if aught be sure, what can be surer
Than that earth's good decays not with earth?