I'll have no compromise, No bargain-driving With the gods. And so, When I am dead, Let them not offer me With oriental hospitality Their Paradise. Let not their angels In cynical humility Wash my feet with myrrh, Anoint my head With perfumed oils, And flap their wings Like silver castanets In mocking merriment. I'll have no dealings With the gods I've known them too long, And learned the cunning fashion Of their arts. And so, When I am dead, Let vulgar Earth Absorb me with her kiss, And clasp me tightly With her rough unclean arms Against her breast. And when she wearies Of my flesh and bones, Let her crush me in her palms, And render me A blade of grass, To dance a summer's day And throw kisses To the stars. Alas, the gods are greedy, And seek their profit, They'll never give me peace, When I am dead They'll offer me Most graciously, Their Paradise. ... | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SAGA OF THE SMALL-BREASTED WOMAN by KAREN SWENSON MY PICTURE-GALLERY by WALT WHITMAN CHARACTERS: ELIZABETH RIGBY by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD SEASONS AND TIMES by WILLIAM BARNES NEW VERMONT NAMES by DANIEL LEAVENS CADY THE LORDS' MASQUE: CHORUS (2) by THOMAS CAMPION A TASTE FOR THE MODERN by BLISS CARMAN |