My spirit will not haunt the mound
            Above my breast,
But travel, memory-possessed,
To where my tremulous being found
            Life largest, best.

My phantom-footed shape will go
            When nightfall grays
Hither and thither along the ways
I and another used to know
            In backward days.

And there you’ll find me, if a jot
            You still should care
For me, and for my curious air;
If otherwise, then I shall not,
            For you, be there.