When I am dead, and in a white hot flame My body is reduced to earth again, I ask not that you scatter far and wide My ashes to the winds or to the tide. But place them deep in some cool garden, where The scents of rose and hyacinth perfume the air. Let me lie there, where, when the freshening rain Comes to refresh the arid earth again And some sweet mating birds their rapture sing, From this once-barren body life will spring. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO THE NIGHTINGALE by ANNE FINCH SING-SONG; A NURSERY RHYME BOOK: 48 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI CASEY AT THE BAT (1) by ERNEST LAWRENCE THAYER WHIM ALLEY by WILLIAM HERVEY ALLEN JR. TO THE WINDS by BERNARD BARTON PATERNITY by WILLIAM ROSE BENET |