(May I lie in peace)
Let there be grass and trees to blow
And fold me in their shadow
Branches to shake and leaves
Turn brown, fall and lie fallow.
Let there be moorlands swept by wind
And raked by rain, purple splashes of heather
In autumn and sturdy boulders our forefathers
Carved their names on, emerald and slippery with moss
And pebble-strewn sheep-tracks crossing ditch and dyke
Where sudden rills of hill water strike free from
Hidden meanderings with the splash and rush
Of sudden laughter.
Let me lie with the sighing wind for choir,
Moss and lichen my only cover
When my earthy days are over.
