Far from the churchyard dig his grave, br On some green mound beside the wave; br To westward, sea and sky alone, br And sunsets. Put a mossy stone, br With mortal name and date, a harp br And bunch of wild flowers, carven sharp; br Then leave it free to winds that blow, br And patient mosses creeping; slow, br And wandering wings, and footsteps rare br Of human creature pausing there.