THE SAD YEARS
FOR HE HAD GREAT POSSESSIONS (Continued)
My desk, my shelf, my very roof-tree's shade
They sought for long, and o'er my lands did stray,
And then returned and by my corpse knelt down
With folded hands to murmur, “Let us pray.”
And as they bent by the mysterious dead,
Naked of all, from all possessions free,
I saw each face—and went new worlds to meet,
For what was I to them, or they to me?
[46]
