Here when I have died,
And when my body is found,
They will bury it by the roadside
And in no blessèd ground.

And no one my story will tell,
And no one will honour my name:
They will think that they bury well
The damned in their grave of shame.

But alike shall be at last
The shamed and the blessèd place,
The future and the past,
Man's grace and man's disgrace.

Secure in their grave I shall be
From it all, and quiet then,
With no thought and no memory
Of the deeds and the dooms of men.