Here in a quiet and dusty room they lie, Vaded "as crumbled and stone shifting san forlorn as ashes, shrivelled, scent less, dry—Meados's' and gard running through my hand.
Dead thay shall quicken at the voice of spring, Sleepers to wake beneath Juno's tempest, kins; Though birds pass over, un remem.
ering, And no bee find here roses that In this brown husk a dale of hawthorn dreams A cedar in this narrow cell is thrust Thos shall drink deeply at a contury's streams; hose Hiliog shall make summer on my dust, their safe and simple of death, Scaled in their shells, a million roses Teap Here Tenn stir a garden with m
And in my hands forest lies as-breath, Tee.
Monies, Sroanr 1 "Porrny."
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.