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The Spike: or, Victoria University College Review, June 1929

The Miser

The Miser

When the fragrant earth receives me
And wraps me round in sleep,
Let no stone be raised above me:
I would keep
All that God may give of sunlight
For mine own;
I would have no darkening shadow
On me thrown.

Let the grass grow green above me,
And let no stranger know
That one by Loveliness befriended
Lies below.
Let me hear the feet of children
Hear their laughter—tell them nothing
Of the dead.

Dearly have I worshipped Beauty,
And I shall worship still,
Though I rest in shaded valley
On the hill;
May her face be turned towards me,
And her eyes
Speak of joy that never passes,
Never dies.