Tongue of wisdom, busy brain—
All thou wert shall be forgot,
And thy place shall know thee not.
Shadows from the bending trees
O’er thy lowly head may pass,
Sighs from every wandering breeze
Stir the long, thick, churchyard grass—
Wilt thou heed them? No: thy sleep
Shall be dreamless, calm, and deep.
Some sweet bird may sit and sing