My Last Will

 When I am safely laid away, 
Out of work and out of play, 
Sheltered by the kindly ground 
From the world of sight and sound, 
One or two of those I leave 
Will remember me and grieve, 
Thinking how I made them gay 
By the things I used to say; 
-- But the crown of their distress 
Will be my untidiness.
 

What a nuisance then will be 
All that shall remain of me! 
Shelves of books I never read, 
Piles of bills, undocketed, 
Shaving-brushes, razors, strops, 
Bottles that have lost their tops, 
Boxes full of odds and ends, 
Letters from departed friends, 
Faded ties and broken braces 
Tucked away in secret places, 
Baggy trousers, ragged coats, 
Stacks of ancient lecture-notes, 
And that ghostliest of shows, 
Boots and shoes in horrid rows.
 
Though they are of cheerful mind, 
My lovers, whom I leave behind, 
When they find these in my stead, 
Will be sorry I am dead.
 

They will grieve; but you, my dear, 
Who have never tasted fear, 
Brave companion of my youth, 
Free as air and true as truth, 
Do not let these weary things 
Rob you of your junketings.
 

Burn the papers; sell the books; 
Clear out all the pestered nooks; 
Make a mighty funeral pyre 
For the corpse of old desire, 
Till there shall remain of it 
Naught but ashes in a pit: 
And when you have done away 
All that is of yesterday, 
If you feel a thrill of pain, 
Master it, and start again.
 

This, at least, you have never done 
Since you first beheld the sun: 
If you came upon your own 
Blind to light and deaf to tone, 
Basking in the great release 
Of unconsciousness and peace, 
You would never, while you live, 
Shatter what you cannot give; 
-- Faithful to the watch you keep, 
You would never break their sleep.
 

Clouds will sail and winds will blow 
As they did an age ago 
O'er us who lived in little towns 
Underneath the Berkshire downs.
 
When at heart you shall be sad, 
Pondering the joys we had, 
Listen and keep very still.
 
If the lowing from the hill 
Or the tolling of a bell 
Do not serve to break the spell, 
Listen; you may be allowed 
To hear my laughter from a cloud.
 

Take the good that life can give 
For the time you have to live.
 
Friends of yours and friends of mine 
Surely will not let you pine.
 
Sons and daughters will not spare 
More than friendly love and care.
 
If the Fates are kind to you, 
Some will stay to see you through; 
And the time will not be long 
Till the silence ends the song.
 

Sleep is God's own gift; and man, 
Snatching all the joys he can, 
Would not dare to give his voice 
To reverse his Maker's choice.
 
Brief delight, eternal quiet, 
How change these for endless riot 
Broken by a single rest? 
Well you know that sleep is best.
 

We that have been heart to heart 
Fall asleep, and drift apart.
 
Will that overwhelming tide 
Reunite us, or divide? 
Whence we come and whither go 
None can tell us, but I know 
Passion's self is often marred 
By a kind of self-regard, 
And the torture of the cry 
"You are you, and I am I.
" 
While we live, the waking sense 
Feeds upon our difference, 
In our passion and our pride 
Not united, but allied.
 

We are severed by the sun, 
And by darkness are made one.

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