I heard a small sad sound, And stood awhile among the tombs around: “Wherefore, old friends,” said I, “are you distrest, Now, screened from life’s unrest?” But that our future second death is near; When, with the living, memory of us numbs, And blank oblivion comes! “These, our sped ancestry, Lie here embraced by deeper … Continue reading The To-Be-Forgotten — Thomas Hardy