Henry Austin Dobson (1840-1921)
In After Days
IN after days when grasses highO'er-top the stone where I shall lie,
Though ill or well the world adjust
My slender claim to honoured dust,
I shall not question nor reply.
I shall not see the morning sky;
I shall not hear the night-wind sigh;
I shall be mute, as all men must
In after days!
But yet, now living, fain would I
That some one then should testify,
Saying--'He held his pen in trust
To Art, not serving shame or lust.'
Will none?--Then let my memory die
In after days!
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