Picture Of An Old Man

Old man, I saw thee in thy garden chair
  Sitting in silence 'mid the shrubs and trees
  Of thy small cottage-croft, whilst murmuring bees
  Went by, and almost touched thy temples bare,
  Edged with a few flakes of the whitest hair.
  And, soothed by the faint hum of ebbing seas,
  And song of birds, and breath of the young breeze,
  Thus didst thou sit, feeling the summer air
  Blow gently;--with a sad still decadence,
  Sinking to earth in hope, but all alone.
  Oh! hast thou wept to feel the lonely sense
  Of earthly loss, musing on voices gone!
  Hush the vain murmur, that, without offence,
  Thy head may rest in peace beneath the churchyard stone.