RobertWService.Com

My name is cut into a stone,
            No care have I;
The letters drool, as I alone
            Forgotten lie:
With weed my grave is overgrown,
            None cometh nigh.

A hundred hollow years will speed
            As I decay;
And I'll be comrade to the weed,
            Kin to the clay;
Until some hind in homing-need
            Will pass my way.

Until some lover seeking hearth
            With joy will see
My nameless stone sunk in the earth
            And it will be
The ruddy birth of childish mirth,
            And elder glee.

And none will dream it bore my name
            Decades ago;
A scribbling fool of little fame,
            Who loved life so . . .
Well, flesh is grass and Time must pass,--
            Heigh ho! Heigh ho!