In my last hour, sit close to me And read some tale of far-off lands -- So may the poignant moments be Blurred by the slipping of your hands Among the pages of the book And firelight brushed across your face, That I may have one tender look To take with me from time and space; And let some distant bugle call Throb bravely through the waning light, So I shall scarcely know at all When the dim day drops into night, Nor when your voice, a slow release From laughter and forgotten tears, Breaks and becomes a lost bright piece Among the scattered shards of years. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE ARABIAN SHAWL by KATHERINE MANSFIELD NICHARCHUS UPON PHIDON HIS DOCTOR by EZRA POUND BALLADE OF DEAD LADIES by FRANCOIS VILLON IDEA: 14. TO TIME by MICHAEL DRAYTON MISS KILMANSEGG AND HER PRECIOUS LEG: HER DEATH by THOMAS HOOD THE BUGLER'S FIRST COMMUNION by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS A DEAD HARVEST (IN KENSINGTON GARDENS) by ALICE MEYNELL |