Let not a foreign earth weigh down my head, Nor mingle with the dust that was my heart! Lay me among my own when I am dead, In my own land, eternally a part Of all I know and love. I could not sleep With strangers here, and there is aching need Of sleep after much weariness, and deep Were mine at home. It is a place, indeed, For long, untroubled sleep. All summer there The pale somnambulists of heaven pass Immense and silver through the turquoise air, Trailing their purple garments on the grass. Though friendless, childless, honorless I come, They will know I am theirs; they will make room. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BACCALAUREATE by ARCHIBALD MACLEISH ON A YOUNG LADY'S SIXTH ANNIVERSARY by KATHERINE MANSFIELD NORTH WIND TO DUTIFUL BEAST MIDWAY BETWEEN DIAL & FOOT OF GARDEN CLOCK by MARIANNE MOORE THE CLOISTER by ISAAC ROSENBERG THE FABRIC OF LIFE by KAY RYAN UPLANDS IN MAY by CARL SANDBURG GOOD-BYE DOROTHY GAYLE: ST. CLOUD, MINNESOTA by KAREN SWENSON |