Robert Graves,
Country Sentiment
“ Till though long lost are stone and slate, Though the brook no more runs, And dead long time are Tom, John, Kate, Their sons and their sons' sons. Yet as when Time with stealthy tread Lays the rich garden waste The woodland berry ripe and red Fails not in scent or taste, So these same rhymes shall still be told To children yet unborn, While false philosophy growing old Fades and is killed by scorn. ”
