“ But since it pleased a vanish’d eye, 
I go to plant it on his tomb, 
That if it can, it there may bloom, 
Or dying—there at least may die.” 
--“He, 
To whom a thousand memories call, 
Hot being less, but more than all 
The gentleness he seemed to be, 
So wore his outward best, and join’d 
Each office of the social hour, 
To noble manners, as the flower 
And native growth of noble mind.” 
In Memoriam, 
