"Here Lies Oliver Goldsmith"
By W. A. Mackenzie
With Youth s unconquerable eye
I watch the flux of Life go by,
Where foam the floods of Strand and Fleet;
And like the hum of mighty looms,
Upon my country ear there booms
The diapason of the street.
Accustomed long to cheep and twit
Of robin, sparrow, wren, and tit,
And call of throstles in the may,
Tis all so strange I turn aside,
Sick of the hoarse and hungry tide,
To try the Temple's quieter way.
In a grey alley, still and lone,
I stumble o'er a lichened stone,
Whereon four simple words are writ:
Our Noll sleeps gloriously below—
A joyous sleep, with dreams like snow,
The muffled street-sounds soothing it.
I know
