On canvas once a painter fixed a thought;
A sculptor once in marble carved a dream;
A queen once built a tomb, and in the scheme
Of gold and bronze the quivering sunbeams caught;
Then came oblivion, unseen, unsought,
Contemptuous of thinker and of theme.
And some one wrote a book. Palace and Hall
Are gone. Marble and bronze are dust. The fanes
Are fallen which the sun old sought. The rook
At morn, caws garrulously over all.