Oh, lay my ashes on the wind <br />That blows across the sea. <br />And I shall meet a fisherman <br />Out of Capri, <br /> <br />And he will say, seeing me, <br />"What a Strange Thing! <br />Like a fish's scale or a <br />Butterfly's wing." <br /> <br />Oh, lay my ashes on the wind <br />That blows away the fog. <br />And I shall meet a farmer boy <br />Leaping through the bog, <br /> <br />And he will say, seeing me, <br />"What a Strange Thing! <br />Like a peat-ash or a <br />Butterfly's wing." <br /> <br />And I shall blow to YOUR house <br />And, sucked against the pane, <br />See you take your sewing up <br />And lay it down again. <br /> <br />And you will say, seeing me, <br />"What a strange thing! <br />Like a plum petal or a <br />Butterfly's wing." <br /> <br />And none at all will know me <br />That knew me well before. <br />But I will settle at the root <br />That climbs about your door, <br /> <br />And fishermen and farmers <br />May see me and forget, <br />But I'll be a bitter berry <br />In your brewing yet.<br /><br />Edna St. Vincent Millay<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-curse/
