When I am dead and over me sweet springtime
awakes to life from her long winter's sleep . . .
I think, that as part of earth's great fullness
I shall, yet, feel Life's finger's reaching deep!
I think that I shall thrill again to songbirds
and know the healing warmth of April rain . . .
when hillsides lose their brown and start to quicken
while new leaves dance on trees along the lane!
I shall know hope of blest resurgent living
as Nature's dead awake in spring anew. . .
So I can sit here silent , without grieving
above the mound of earth that covers you!