For us, with calming winds came late,
     we know not their pain;
The seas and tides had taken care
     not even left a stain—
Of all the broken things there were,
     I still have yet to see one;
But veldts of green and daffodils,
     in which to play and run—
They say to me in a whisper soft,
     “Do not dwell on us below."
So we dance among the fields above
     those forgotten long ago.