‘They say that the Dead die not, but remain
   Near to the rich heirs of their grief and mirth.
      I think they ride the calm mid-heaven, as these,
In wise majestic melancholy train,
      And watch the moon, and the still-raging seas,
   And men, coming and going on the earth.’

From the poem ‘Clouds’ (October 1913) by Rupert Brooke.