In falling Timbers buried —
There breathed a Man —
Outside — the spades — were plying —
The Lungs — within —

Could He — know — they sought Him —
Could They — know — He breathed —
Horrid Sand Partition —
Neither — could be heard —

Never slacked the Diggers —
But when Spades had done —
Oh, Reward of Anguish,
It was dying — Then —

Many Things — are fruitless —
'Tis a Baffling Earth —
But there is no Gratitude
Like the Grace — of Death —