Sonnet: Oh! Death will find me, long before I tire
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h! Death will find me, long before I tireOf watching you; and swing me suddenlyInto the shade and loneliness and mireOf the last land! There, waiting patiently, One day, I think, I'll feel a cool wind blowing,See a slow light across the Stygian tide,And hear the Dead about me stir, unknowing,And tremble. And I shall know that you have died, And watch you, a broad-browed and smiling dream,Pass, light as ever, through the lightless host,Quietly ponder, start, and sway, and gleam --Most individual and bewildering ghost! -- And turn, and toss your brown delightful headAmusedly, among the ancient Dead.
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