The marble tablet lyrics
by Thomas Hardy
There it stands, though alas, what a little of her
  Shows in its cold white look!
Not her glance, glide, or smile; not a tittle of her
  Voice like the purl of a brook;
  Not her thoughts, that you read like a book.
It may stand for her once in November
  When first she breathed, witless of all;
Or in heavy years she would remember
  When circ*mstance held her in thrall;
  Or at last, when she answered her call!
Nothing more. The still marble, date-graven,
  Gives all that it can, tersely lined;
That one has at length found the haven
  Which every one other will find;
  With silence on what shone behind.