I stood to hear that bold

    I STOOD to hear that bold 
    Sentence of grit and mould. 
    Earth to earth ; they thrust 
    On his coffin dust ; 
    Stones struck against his grave : 
    O the old days, the brave I 

    Just with a pebble's fall. 
    Grave-digger, you turn all 

    Bliss to bereaving ; 

    To catch the cleaving 
    Of Atropa's fine shears 
    Would less hurt human ears. 

    Live senses that death dooms! 

    For friendship in dear rooms, 
    Slow-lighting faces, 
    Hand-clasps, embraces. 

    Ashes on ashes grind : 

    O poor lips left behind I 

    Mortality turns round 
    On mortals in that sound : 

    Ears are for the knell 

    Of a muffled bell: 
    Touch, for clods of earth ; 
    Sight, for torture and dearth.