Page:Poet Lore, volume 27, 1916.djvu/742

 “O sexton, find for me that heart From which you snatched the song you sing!” The sexton wondered long and sought, Save bones he could not find a thing.

Then from his grave he rose and spake: “That, sir, with us no difference makes, Ten hearts can’st thou perchance possess, The grave wastes all of them it takes.”

He finishes digging, and I sighed: “O heart of mine, there thou didst end.” The sexton as consoling adds, “When hearts stop song, so all doth tend.”