By Grave

Should paltry I, who hold a fleeting lease

Upon this mortal flesh presume to will Its future circumstance at my decease,

Who cannot then bestow for good or ill, Who have no worthy purpose that will thrive At my desire save when I am alive?

'Twas given me and freely, this poor shell, And freely I shall leave it where chance wills. From hence I go for all we know to hell,

To heaven or perhaps my form fulfills The simple earthly process of decay-Earth claims my mind as night absorbs day.

No, let me lie wherever I may be

When I my race on this old earth have run. Cart not my carcass over land or sea.

Here let me rest when I my work have done. If I from watchful friends have wandered far, The friendly, constant stars my sentries are.

I dwell with admiration on those men

Who give their cause all that they have to give,

Who fall in course of duty and are then

Abruptly buried where they cease to live. Pray, then, when I shall have to give up all,

At your convenience lay me where I fall.

Manuel boy Frank

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