The Day You Die

The day you die I will not come and say: Poor weary dust, how rested now, at peace, Nor shed a tear upon that bitter day Above the new turned earth granting you release. I will go seeking all you were and find Dark eyes that I remember where larkspurs blow, And, listening, pluck your voice from the warm wind As clearly as a red rose from the snow. Granite can never capture nor hold you fast; Forever at my side your steps shall be, Tracing the paths we knew and loved the best, And searching restless patterns of the sea I will find your face in all the tides that run, Your laughter, defiant, lifting toward the sun.