Let not a foreign earth weigh down my head, Nor mingle with the dust that was my heart! Lay me among my own when I am dead, In my own land, eternally a part Of all I know and love. I could not sleep With strangers here, and there is aching need Of sleep after much weariness, and deep Were mine at home. It is a place, indeed, For long, untroubled sleep. All summer there The pale somnambulists of heaven pass Immense and silver through the turquoise air, Trailing their purple garments on the grass. Though friendless, childless, honorless I come, They will know I am theirs; they will make room. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A WINTER'S NIGHT by ROBERT FROST THIRD BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 12 by THOMAS CAMPION THE HOLY SCRIPTURES (1) by GEORGE HERBERT THE LAW OF THE YUKON by ROBERT WILLIAM SERVICE THE VAGABONDS by JOHN TOWNSEND TROWBRIDGE ODES: BOOK 1: ODE 15. TO THE EVENING STAR by MARK AKENSIDE |