Bring, in this timeless grave to throw, <br />No cypress, sombre on the snow; <br />Snap not from the bitter yew <br />His leaves that live December through; <br />Break no rosemary, bright with rime <br />And sparkling to the cruel clime; <br />Nor plod the winter land to look <br />For willows in the icy brook <br />To cast them leafless round him: bring <br />No spray that ever buds in spring. <br /> <br />But if the Christmas field has kept <br />Awns the last gleaner overstept, <br />Or shrivelled flax, whose flower is blue <br />A single season, never two; <br />Or if one haulm whose year is o'er <br />Shivers on the upland frore, <br />--Oh, bring from hill and stream and plain <br />Whatever will not flower again, <br />To give him comfort: he and those <br />Shall bide eternal bedfellows <br />Where low upon the couch he lies <br />Whence he never shall arise.<br /><br />Alfred Edward Housman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/bring-in-this-timeless-grave-to-throw/
