When At The Last
by Katharine Lee Bates
When at the last I lift my lids to brook
The close-bent face of Death, perchance I'll see
Your wide, sweet eyes, with their eternal look
Of childhood, smiling through the mist on me.
Source:
Yellow Clover: A Book Of RemembranceCopyright 1922
E. P. Dutton & Company, New York