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(Last two verses)

 Under bare Ben Bulben's head
 In Drumcliff churchyard Yeats is laid.
 An ancestor was rector there
 Long years ago, a church stands near,
 By the road an ancient cross.
 
 No marble, no conventional phrase;
 On limestone quarried near the spot
 By his command these words are cut:
 Cast a cold eye
 On life, on death.
 Horseman, pass by!