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Poem

Mourn me not when I am dead,
	Gone to a place remote from this land;
	When thou canst no more say:
	‘I love thee in just this way;’
        Nor tell me jokes, nor kiss my hand.
	Reminisce of me nevermore when in bed,

	Just know that I & life were never friends;
	Recall that life was just my living –that’s all.
	So, the moon shone and declared my passing;
	My body lifeless, for the moon saw me grassing
	My days with prayer, but that was just a holy call
	And no one should weep when my life ends.

	Like the period of autumn in every leasing year,
	Bid me farewell when transitory be my lifespan, and –
	Dost thou not mourn me, dost thou not mock me
	Nor sing praises for me like a silent sea;
	If such there be hope that I’ve not gone to a foreign land
	When my blest soul enters the pearly gates, beware,

	I shall sleep not mournful but better in my grave!
	Knowing that my family and friends osculate me goodbye,
	That with songs sincere they’ve only compared me with me,
	That they rejoice with me as I travel to paradise, and be
	Glad that Heaven will revive and revitalize me, so that I
	As I die be the best that I could ever be with Heaven my cave.

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