Let them bestow on every airth a limb, <br />Then open all my veins, that I may swim <br />To thee, my Maker, in that crimson lake, <br />Then place my par boiled head upon a stake; <br />Scatter my ashes, strow them in the air. <br />Lord, since thou knowest where all these atoms are, <br />I'm hopeful thou'lt recover once my dust, <br />And confident thou'lt raise me with the just.<br /><br />James Graham<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lines-written-on-the-eve-of-his-execution/
