I sought the churchyard where the lifeless lie,
And envied them, they rest so peacefully.
"No wretch comes here, at dead of night." I said,
"To drag the weary from his hard-earn'd bed;
No schoolboys here with mournful relics play,
And kick the 'dome of thought' o'er common clay;
No city cur snarls here o'er dead men's bones;
No sordid fiend removes memorial stones.
The dead have here what to the dead belongs,
Though legislation makes not laws, but wrongs."