I know a garden near the gates of Rome
Where Life and Death hold hands in silence; here
In solemn shade where towering cypress rear
Their green eternal, white as wind-led foam
Lie scattered stones that shield the final home
Of exiles. Fair their bed; by violets dear
And swaying roses decked; above them, clear
In bluest glory arches Heaven's dome.
‘ Twas here my heart encountered peace one day
Beside an old man's grave that said: If God
Condemn you live beyond your friend, this way
You too may rest.— The heart is childish; dread
Of earth-loss fades before Trelawny dead
Close-gathered to his Shelley in the sod.