When I have passed the bourne of ear and eye,
And thou my whereabouts no more canst tell;
When all I am is but a phantasy,
Seen in thy heart, to none else visible:
When haply slow time shall have faded then,
And thee too brought to thy departure here,
But call me in the spirit, and again
My soul, that was thy mate, shall answer, dear!
Then from the confines of that shadowy clime
As in a visionary light I'll come
To where, within the fading fields of time,
Thy soul waits mine, with whom to journey home
Till, with thy hand in mine, we take our way
Where all that we have been is ours for aye.
Post Mortem.
written byRobert Crawford
© Robert Crawford