IXTESTAMENT
When I am dead what shall I leave to you?Some faint imaginings, a doubt or two,And one great dream that never could come true.
When I am dead then I will leave to youA legacy of little things we knewWhen the sun shone, and when the sky was blue—
The dusty windings of a road in Spain,A smile you left upon the window-pane,The only tear you ever wept in vain,
Your tangled sweetnesses divinely grave,The silent memories of you I haveDeep, timid secrets struggling to be brave.
For I will leave you no heroic thing,No unguessed poverty of Pope or King,A ring of smoke, but not a ruby ring.
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