Poetry Archives

When they shall close my careless eyes
And look their last upon my face,
I fear that some will say: “her lies
        A man of deep disgrace;
His thoughts were bare, his words were brittle,
He dreamed so much, he did so little.

When they shall seal y coffin lid
And this worn mask I know as ME,
Shall from the sight of man be hid
        To all eternity—
Some one may say: “His sins were many,
His virtues—really, had he any?”

When I shall lie beneath my tomb,
Oh do not grave it with my name
But let one rose-bush o’er me bloom,
        And heedless of my shame,
With velvet shade and loving laugh,
In petals write my epitaph.