With sight forever closed
And voice eternally locked
Shine still will the immortal sun
Birds at my wake keep sing on to life as incense burn
When I die;
In neat dis-order, ants will march
And buzzing silently the bees shall lament
While I shall lie still,
All gone stealth and stilt.
Finally dead from undying death
With sightless eyes and mirthless mirth, my bane.
When I die .