Carve these graveyard words for me

On a white board cut from a hardwood tree,

And when these words are worn with weather,

Go get knives and carve another:

"Here lies a man who lies awake,

Having given to death all death can take.

Love still beats in the buried head,

Intent on the days of the great undead."

When the bodies of girls are meaningless,

And no one weeps for music heard,

Nor cares for grace, or the great word;

When down the banners of thankfulness

Are dropped, and flamelight scatters;

When time, time, no longer matters,

Then he will turn on his dark floor,

Glad as he never was before

To be underground and six feet deep;Then he will sleep.