That sweeten the twilight as evening comes on,
So be my life—a thing felt but not noticed,—
And I but remembered by what I have done.
Yes, like the fragrance that wanders in freshness
When the flowers that it came from are closed up and gone.
So would I be to this world's weary dwellers
Only remembered by what I have done.
I need not be missed, if my life has been bearing
(As its summer and autumn move silently on)
The bloom, and the fruit, and the seed of its season;