When in your sober mood my body have ye laid <br />In sight and sound of things beloved, woodland and stream, <br />And the green turf has hidden the poor bones ye deem <br />No more a close companion with those rhymes we made; <br /> <br />Then, if some bird should pipe, or breezes stir the glade, <br />Thinking them for the while my voice, so let them seem <br />A fading message from the misty shores of dream, <br />Or wheresoever, following Death, my feet have strayed.<br /><br />Siegfried Sassoon<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/an-old-french-poet/
