". . . with two other priests; the same night he died, <br /> and was buried by the shores of the lake that bears his name." <br /> Chronicle. <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />"Nay, grieve not that ye can no honour give <br /> To these poor bones that presently must be <br />But carrion; since I have sought to live <br /> Upon God's earth, as He hath guided me, <br />I shall not lack! Where would ye have me lie? <br /> High heaven is higher than cathedral nave: <br />Do men paint chancels fairer than the sky?" <br /> Beside the darkened lake they made his grave, <br />Below the altar of the hills; and night <br /> Swung incense clouds of mist in creeping lines <br />That twisted through the tree-trunks, where the light <br /> Groped through the arches of the silent pines: <br />And he, beside the lonely path he trod, <br />Lay, tombed in splendour, in the House of God.<br /><br />John McCrae<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-dying-of-pere-pierre/
