Last Lines of Walter M. Lindsay
Above our days!Await the morning sun!Is an unceasing prayer.Is calm as Nature in her rest!Is digging at my shallow grave!My soul has made!Of myriad struggling men!Oh! wherefore then delay!That never shall return to thee!The Hand that gave them birth.The shattered roof-tree o'er.Thick strown beneath the morning sky.Tossed high above an ocean grave.Unto the boundless main.Unto thee will appear.Upon the shore!When thou art near!Which has blossomed in the May.Which spent, returns to me again!