WHEN Thomas set this tablet here,

Time laughed at the vain chanticleer;

And ere the moss¹ had dimmed the stone,

Time had defaced that garrison².

Now I in turn keep watch and ward³

In my red house, in my walled yard

Of sunflowers, sitting here at ease

With friends and my bright canvases.

But hark, and you may hear quite plain

Time’s chuckled⁴ laughter in the lane.

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