Poetry Archives

Here in the teeth of this triumphant wind
  That shakes the naked shadows on the ground,
Making a key-board of the earth to strike
  From clattering tree and hedge a separate sound,

Bear witness for me that I loved my life,
  All things that hurt me and all things that healed,
And that I swore it this day in March,
  Here at the edge of this new-broken field.

You only knew me, tell them I was glad
  For every hour since my hour of birth,
And that I ceased to fear, as once I feared,
  The last complete reunion with the earth.