Slow Smoke/Let Me Go Down to Dust

by Lew Sarett

LET ME GO DOWN TO DUST

Let me go down to dust and dreamsGently, O Lord, with never a fearOf death beyond the day that is done;In such a manner as beseemsA kinsman of the wild, a sonOf stoic earth whose race is run.Let me go down as any deer,Who, broken by a desperate flight,Sinks down to slumber for the night—Dumbly serene in certitudeThat it will rise again at dawn,Buoyant, refreshed of limb, renewed,And confident that it will thrillTo-morrow to its nuzzling fawn,To the bugle-notes of elk upon the hill.

Let me go down to dreams and dustGently, O Lord, with quiet trustAnd the fortitude that marks a childOf earth, a kinsman of the wild.

Let me go down as any doeThat nods upon its ferny bed,And, lulled to slumber by the flowOf talking water, the muffled brawlOf far cascading waterfall,At last lets down its weary headDeep in the brookmints in the glen;And under the starry-candled sky,With never the shadow of a sigh,Gives its worn body back to earth again.