Often the silent-ness has but this one companions; Wherever one creeps in the other is: sometimes a thought is drowned by it, sometimes out of it climbs; All thoughts begin or end upon this sound. Only the idle foam of water falling changelessly calling, where once men had a work-place and a home...

Call for the Robin-Red- brest and the wern,
Since ore shadie groves they hover,
And with leaves and flowers doe cover
The friendlesse bodies of unburied men.
Call unto this funerall dole
The Ante, the field-mouse, and the mole
To reare him hillockes, that shall keepe him warme,
And (when gay tombes, are rob'd) sustaine  no harme,
But keepe the wolfe far thence, that's foe to men.
For with his nailes hee'l dig them up agen...