 | Moth-Wings |  |
98
A WISH
When I am dead, I would this cote
Of clay where I have lodged might be
Quickly dismantled and forgot,
Rebuilt in grass or flower or tree.
Of clay where I have lodged might be
Quickly dismantled and forgot,
Rebuilt in grass or flower or tree.
Only may some light word of mine,
Or song, outlive my own repose,
A cloud that doth o'er sunset shine,
Or petal of a fallen rose!
Or song, outlive my own repose,
A cloud that doth o'er sunset shine,
Or petal of a fallen rose!
| Moth-Wings | |