by Anna Vaninskaya:
I saw the evening shadows fall
Upon the lonely Norman cross,
And turn from green to grey the moss
Upon the crumbling churchyard wall.
I saw the willows weep their leaves
Into the darkened stream below,
I saw the tower all aglow
From topmost stone to nether eaves.
But I did not see him where oft
Of old I knew he used to stand,
Touching the carvings with his hand,
Tracing their edges worn and soft.