WHEN age comes by and lays his frosty hands So lightly on mine eyes, that, scarce aware Of what an endless weight of gloom they bear, I pause, unstirred, and wait for his commands; When time has bound these limbs of mine with bands, And hushed mine ears, and silvered all my hair, May sorrow come not, nor a vain despair Trouble my soul that meekly girded stands. As silent rivers into silent lakes, Through hush of reeds that not a murmur breaks, Wind, mindful of the poppies whence they came, So may my life, and calmly burn away, As ceases in a lamp at break of day The fragrant remnant of memorial flame. |