If, when my dust has once again Become a part of God's fair earth, And I could have the chance to take another form, In all the glow of a new birth, I know my one desire would be To turn into a pine. With branches lifted to a star-lit sky; Branches curved just a wee bit To hold the nests of birds and hear them sing, While I would gently rock them in the wind Swinging like a green-bowed swing. |