Ramblings

Let silence gaze – but curse not his grave.

Some photos by of a pilgrimage to Clarke's grave here.

"But what are human plaudits now?

He never deemed them worth his care:

Yet death has twined around his brown

The wreath he was too proud too wear."

four lines, written by a friend:

"By friendship’s willing hand erected –

By genius, taste, and skill adorned –

For one too long in life neglected,

But now in death sincerely mourned."