In After Days-Austin Dobson 1840-1921)

In after days when grasses high

o'er top the stone where I shall lie,

Though ill or well the world adjust

My slender claim to honoured dust,

I shall not question nor reply.

I shall not see the morning sky;

I shall hot hear the night wind sigh;

I shall be mute, as all men must,

In after days.

But yet, now living, fain were I

That some one then should testify,

Saying --"He held his pen in trust

To Art, not serving shame or lust."

Will none?--Then let my memory die

In after days

--Austin Dobson