The poem
I
I saw a dead man's finer part Shining within each faithful heart Of those bereft. Then said I: "This must be His immortality."
II
I looked there as the seasons wore, And still his soul continuously upbore Its life in theirs. But less its shine excelled Than when I first beheld.
III
His fellow-yearsmen passed, and then In later hearts I looked for him again; And found him--shrunk, alas! into a thin And spectral mannikin.
IV
Lastly I ask--now old and chill - If aught of him remain unperished still; And find, in me alone, a feeble spark, Dying amid the dark.