If you, that have grown old, were the first dead,
Neither catalpa tree nor scented lime
Should hear my living feet, nor would I tread
Where we wrought that shall break the teeth of Time.
Let the new faces play what tricks they will
In the old rooms; night can outbalance day,
Our shadows rove the garden gravel still,
The living seem more shadowy than they.
Part of the Coole Park Poetry Series, produced with Druid and shot at Coole Park as part of DruidGregory.
This poem is in the public domain in the UK and Ireland.