In after days when grasses high
O’ertop the stone where I shall lie,
Though ill or well the world adjust
My slender claim to honored dust,
I shall not question nor reply.

I shall not see the morning sky;
I shall not 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 – β€œHe held his pen in trust
To Art, not serving shame or lust.”
Will none? – Then let my memory die
In after days!

~Austin Dobson~

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