Buttress'd with a grassy mound;

Where Day and Night and Day go by,

And bring no touch of human sound.

Washing of the lonely seas,

Shaking of the guardian trees,

Piping of the salted breeze;

Day and Night and Day go by

To the endless tune of these.

[35]

Or when, as winds and waters keep

A hush more dead than any sleep,

Still morns to stiller evenings creep,

And Day and Night and Day go by;

Here the silence is most deep.

The empty ruins, lapsed again

Into Nature's wide domain,

Sow themselves with seed and grain

As Day and Night and Day go by;

And hoard June's sun and April's rain.

Here fresh funeral tears were shed;

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