When I am dead Robe not my dust in raven raiment Bitter with the tears of the sweat-shop. Neither give it a pall Of black loam six feet thick Embroidered with white worms, And creeping things unspeakable. Nor would I have A mantle of cold stone On which snails will write my epitaph In silver slime. Through white fires of anguish Came I to this kind land of kisses; Through opalescent flames would I go Seeking that strange country Of love, youth and endless beauty. Comrade am I of the dune and sea, Friend am I of the cloud and rain, Brother am I of the hills and trees, Lover am I of the sun's gold flame! When I am dead -- Give me a shroud of crimson blaze, And a sepulchre of blue sea . . . Bid me bon voyage! And let me go the way Of a viking! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WISDOM COMETH WITH THE YEARS by COUNTEE CULLEN SOMEBODY LOVED ME by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON EIGHTEEN-DOLLAR TAXI TRIP TO TIZAPAN AND BACK TO CHAPALA by CLARENCE MAJOR BETRAND AND GOURGAUD TALK OVER OLD TIMES by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE ALTAR by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON |