Walking through trees to cool my heat and pain, <br />I know that David’s with me here again. <br />All that is simple, happy, strong, he is. <br />Caressingly I stroke <br />Rough bark of the friendly oak. <br />A brook goes bubbling by: the voice is his. <br />Turf burns with pleasant smoke; <br />I laugh at chaffinch and at primroses. <br />All that is simple, happy, strong, he is. <br />Over the whole wood in a little while <br />Breaks his slow smile.<br /><br />Robert Graves<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/not-dead/
