Among the many lives that I have known, <br />None I remember more serene and sweet, <br />More rounded in itself and more complete, <br />Than his, who lies beneath this funeral stone. <br />These pines, that murmur in low monotone, <br />These walks frequented by scholastic feet, <br />Were all his world; but in this calm retreat <br />For him the Teacher's chair became a throne. <br />With fond affection memory loves to dwell <br />On the old days, when his example made <br />A pastime of the toil of tongue and pen; <br />And now, amid the groves he loved so well <br />That naught could lure him from their grateful shade, <br />He sleeps, but wakes elsewhere, for God hath said, Amen!<br /><br />Henry Wadsworth Longfellow<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/parker-cleveland-written-on-revisiting-brunswick-in-the-summer-of-1875/
