Who knows where the graveyard is
Where the fox and the eagle lie?
Who has seen the obsequies
Of the red deer when they die?
With death they steal away
Out of the sight of the sun;
Out of the sight of the living, they
Pay the debt and are done.
No marble marks the place;
The common forest brown
Covers them over with Quaker grace
Just where they laid them down.
But a few years, if you see
In summer a deeper green
Here and there, it is like to be
The spot where their bones have been.
Thus, not more, to the poor dead year:
No grave, nor ghostly stone,
But a greener life and a warmer cheer
Be the only sign that he's gone.