Far from the churchyard dig his grave,On some green mound beside the wave;To westward, sea and sky alone,And sunsets. Put a mossy stone,With mortal name and date, a harpAnd bunch of wild flowers, carven sharp;Then leave it free to winds that blow,And patient mosses creeping; slow,And wandering wings, and footsteps rareOf human creature pausing there. William Allingham (19 March 1824 – 18 November...
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