ELEGY IN A TOWN CHURCHYARD (ST GILES)
Among the churchyard tombs red poppies wave
Their slender stems but these dead did not fall
In Flanders nor at Blenheim, Waterloo
Or any field of war. They died a-bed
As much at ease as sickness unto death
Permits to any man in his last hour.
INTIMATION OF AUTUMN IN ST GILES’ CHURCHYARD
Though yet of August eight days are remaining
The chestnut leaves are turning into brown
And in their green and gleaming casings wait
The burnished conkers, ready soon to burst
When Autumn comes at last, bringing its fall.