[My life is full of weary days]
I.
My life is full of weary days
, and the
next poem beginning “When in the darkness
over me,” were originally two poems, tho' one
in the edition, dated 1833, published in
1832.
My life is full of weary days,
But good things have not kept aloof,
Nor wander'd into other ways:
I have not lack'd thy mild reproof,
Nor golden largess of thy praise.
And now shake hands across the brink
Of that deep grave to which I go:
Shake hands once more: I cannot sink
So far—far down, but I shall know
Thy voice, and answer from below.
II.
When in the darkness over me
The four-handed mole shall scrape,
Plant thou no dusky cypress-tree,
Nor wreathe thy cap with doleful crape,
But pledge me in the flowing grape.
And when the sappy field and wood
Grow green beneath the showery gray,
And rugged barks begin to bud,
And thro' damp holts new-flush'd with may,
Ring sudden scritches
Originally “laughters.” I was
one day walking with a friend in a copse,
and I heard bird-laughter. I have no eyes,
so to speak. He said, “That's a jay.” It
may have been a woodpecker as far as my
ears could tell. However, whether he was
right in his eyesight or I in my hearing, I did
once catch a jay in the act of laughing. I
once crept with the greatest caution thro' a
wood and came right underneath a jay. I
heard him chuckling to himself; and the
afternoon sun was full upon him. I broke by
chance a little rotten twig of the tree he was
perch'd on, and away he went.
of the jay,
Then let wise Nature work her will,
And on my clay her darnel grow;
Come only, when the days are still,
And at my headstone whisper low,
And tell me if the woodbines blow.
