12. The Churchyard, Old Braddan

They sleep below

Grassy mound and lichened stone,

Old men and young men,

Girls and women,

Children,

Laid in row on row

Waiting to wake

At Gabriel’s trumpet tone;

Or already gone

Far far beyond

Where fond

Hearts can break;

Out into the infinite peac,

Whole, young, and quick with release,

Thronging eternity’s ddoor,

Mortal no more!