If it should hap, I being summoned hence
To an unknown and all too hazardous bourne,
One should bring news charged with this heavy sense,
" He has gone farther and cannot return " ;
Waste not your day with weary " Why " or " Whence "
At griet that my young years be compted so.
I mourn not. Nor should you. My recompense
Grows with the years and with them yours shall grow.
For England's fairest, her most beloved lands,
Her watchful hills, her slumbrous trees and streams,
Shall surely teach a heart that understands
What depth and amplitude of noble dreams
She gives, and how content into her hands
I yield the little life without her seems.