Death will find me, long before I tire
Of watching you, and swing me suddenly
Into the shade and loneliness and mire
Of the last land! They're waiting patiently.
One day, I think I'll feel a cool wind blowing
See a slow light across the open tide
And hear the dead about me stir, unknowing
And tremble, and I shall know that you have died,
And watch you, a broad-brow and smiling dream,
Pass, light as ever, through the light-less host
Quietly ponder, start, and sway, and gleam
Most individual and bewildering ghost!
And turn, and toss your brown delightful head
Amusedly , among the ancient dead.