I lay beneath the pine trees,
    And looked aloft, where, through
The dusky, clustered tree-tops,
    Gleamed rent, gay rifts of blue.

I shut my eyes, and a fancy
    Fluttered my sense around:
"I lie here dead and buried,
    And this is churchyard ground.

"I am at rest for ever;
    Ended the stress and strife."
Straight I fell to and sorrowed
    For the pitiful past life.

Right wronged, and knowledge wasted;
    Wise labour spurned for ease;
The sloth and the sin and the failure;
    Did I grow sad for these?

They had made me sad so often;
    Not now they made me sad;
My heart was full of sorrow
    For joy it never had.