Caroling Dusk/When I Die
WHEN I DIE
When I die my song shall beCrooning of the summer breeze;When I die my shroud shall beLeaves plucked from the maple trees;On a couch as green as mossAnd a bed as soft as down,I shall sleep and dream my dreamOf a poet’s laurel crown.
When I die my star shall dropSinging like a nightingale;When I die my soul shall riseWhere the lyre-strings never fail;In the rose my blood shall lie,In the violet the smile,And the moonbeams thousand strongPast my grave each night shall file.