A light of laughing flowers along the grass is spread.
"And gray walls moulder round, on which dull time
Feeds like slow fire upon a hoary brand:
And one keen pyramid, with wedge sublime,
Pavilioning the dust of him who planned
This refuge for his memory, doth stand
Like flame transformed to marble; and beneath
A field is spread, on which a newer band
Have pitched, in heaven's smile, their camp of death,
Welcoming him we lose, with scarce extinguished breath.