My soul may go to Heaven or to Hell Or be extinguished like a candle-flame. So people tell me; but I cannot tell Which may be right, for none can prove his claim. I let them argue, struggle, prophesy, About my soul's continuance or end -- They are so much more exercised than I, Parson, and atheist, and meddling friend. But my neglected body, turned again Back to its elements, may make a part Of hyacinths ... or wine ... or April rain ... Perhaps, some tiny atom from my heart May join with one that once was yours -- somehow, And win the joy that you deny me now. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A LETTER FROM A GIRL TO HER OWN OLD AGE by ALICE MEYNELL BURNS by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER THE TOMBS OF THE KINGS by MATHILDE BLIND SHREWSBURY NIGHT by CHARLES WARE BORDEN THE WANDERER: 2. IN FRANCE: A REMEMBRANCE by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |