When my time is come to die, <br />I would shun the decent gloom, <br />Whispered word and weeping eye, <br />Fitful hum of knowing fly <br />Questing through the darkened room. <br /> <br />I would lay my skin and bone <br />Where no busy care could trace <br />Failing steps by bush and stone, <br />With my farewell dream alone <br />In a bird-frequented place. <br /> <br />So the sounds that bless my ear <br />When my weary eyelids close <br />Will be songs of hope and cheer; <br />So departing, I shall hear <br />How the tide of living flows. <br /> <br />So my memories shall not be <br />Blurred by griefs however true; <br />So my drowsy sense may see <br />Eyes that light in love on me; <br />So I'll not be leaving you.<br /><br />John Le Gay Brereton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/when-my-time-is-come/
