Oh! Death Will Find Me Long Before I Tire

 Oh! Death will find me, long before I tire 
 Of watching you; and swing me suddenly 
Into the shade and loneliness and mire 
 Of the last land! There, waiting patiently, 

One day, I think, I'll feel a cool wind blowing, 
 See a slow light across the Stygian tide, 
And hear the Dead about me stir, unknowing, 
 And tremble. And I shall know that you have died, 

And watch you, a broad-browed and smiling dream, 
 Pass, light as ever, through the lightless host, 
Quietly ponder, start, and sway, and gleam --
 Most individual and bewildering ghost! --

And turn, and toss your brown delightful head 
Amusedly, among the ancient Dead.

Form: Sonnet

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