Quiet we lie beneath the whispering grass

Quiet we lie beneath the whispering grass
With cool and tree green shadow overhead ,
While to and fro the jaded people pass ,
Sighing , “How happy are the dead!”

By envious fortune thwarted and repressed ,
Grieved and discouraged by a thousand frets ,
They turn aside and envy us our rest
Sighing , “The dead have no regrets !”

Yet know , one moment of their harassed life
Outweighs a century in green half-light ,
We lie here stark , and envy them the strife ,
Sighing : “If they but knew , if we but might!”

18th May 1952