There will be life along this sunny hill
When I have sighed and found a darker place.
The mouse will gather grain, the bee will spill
Her bits of pollen on the Queen Anne's lace.
The snail will move from grass to greener grass,
The rolypoly crawl from stone to stone.
The locust will discard his tarnished brass
And disappear on errands of his own.
Life will go on, as busy and as bold
As it has always been.
The seed will fall,
The root claim pasture, and the twig unfold,
And I shall be remembered in them alló
Locust and mouse and bumblebee and stem,
Forever part of me and I of them.