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The ice-cold horror of the tomb,
This haunts my heart by night, by-day,
It never passes quite away;
'Mid sunlit thoughts the under-thought is gloom.
Behind, the flowers that light the garden bed,
Among the stars, within the blue waves' sheen,
I see the grim gaunt faces of the dead,
The countless graves at Kensal Green.
This haunts my heart by night, by-day,
It never passes quite away;
'Mid sunlit thoughts the under-thought is gloom.
Behind, the flowers that light the garden bed,
Among the stars, within the blue waves' sheen,
I see the grim gaunt faces of the dead,
The countless graves at Kensal Green.
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