Had I but lived a hundred years ago
  I might have gone, as I have gone this year,
  By Warmwell Cross on to a Cove I know,
  And Time have placed his finger on me there:
  "You see that man?" -- I might have looked, and said,
  "O yes: I see him. One that boat has brought
  Which dropped down Channel round Saint Alban's Head.
  So commonplace a youth calls not my thought."
  "You see that man?" -- "Why yes; I told you; yes:
 Of an idling town-sort; thin; hair brown in hue;
 And as the evening light scants less and less
 He looks up at a star, as many do."
 "You see that man?" -- "Nay, leave me!" then I plead,
 "I have fifteen miles to vamp across the lea,
 And it grows dark, and I am weary-kneed:
 I have said the third time; yes, that man I see!"
 "Good. That man goes to Rome -- to death, despair;
 And no one notes him now but you and I:
 A hundred years, and the world will follow him there,
 And bend with reverence where his ashes lie."
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