Page:Astrophel and other poems (IA astrophelotherpo00swiniala).pdf/53

 Dead, their names that the night reclaims—alive, their works that the day relumes— Sink and stand, as in stone and sand engraven: none may behold their tombs: Nights and days shall record their praise while here this flower of their grafting blooms.

Flower more fair than the sun-thrilled air bids laugh and lighten and wax and rise, Fruit more bright than the fervent light sustains with strength from the kindled skies, Flower and fruit that the deathless root of man's love rears though the man's name dies.

Stately stands it, the work of hands unknown of: statelier, afar and near, Rise around it the heights that bound our landward gaze from the seaboard here; Downs that swerve and aspire, in curve and change of heights that the dawn holds dear.