A soft wind caressing the leaves of a tree -- Gone, leaving no trace save a memory. A white-winged ship reaching a sheltered bay, Storm-tossed, treasure-laden, from a weary way. A lark singing, soaring into the sky, Bearing its paean of praise on high. A tiny star blending its living ray With the glorious whiteness of the Milky Way. Think thus of me if I should die today. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CHAMBER MUSIC: 12 by JAMES JOYCE CHAMBER MUSIC: 33 by JAMES JOYCE MOTHERHOOD by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON DEEP IN THE QUIET WOOD by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON THE MAN WITH THE HOE OUTWITTED by EDWIN MARKHAM |