The Moor Grave

I lie out here under a heather sod,

A moor-stone at my head; the moor-winds play above.

I lie out here.... In graveyards of their God

They would not bury desperate me who died for love.

I lie out here under the sun and moon;

Across me bearded ponies stride, the curlews cry.

I have no little tombstone screed, no: "Soon

To glory shall she rise!" But deathless peace have I!