No mountains, Nor Coast

I don't desire mountains, Nor do I desire coasts But I hope when I knock your door, Death, You would be a gracious host. When I come to meet you Death, I hope you would be kind. And shoulder to carry me, None I'd need to find. I hope when I lay there, There would be people who would listen, And there would be some titles, With which I would be christened. I hope there would be someone, To whom our separation would cause swan-like despair. But I hope there would be enough memories, To ease the pain they would have to bear. And when I sleep forevermore, There would be millions of days to cherish, I hope there would be heights I had soared, Making my name impossible to perish. Then when I come to knock your door, Death, You would be so kind, That departing from my world, and greeting you I wouldn't mind. I don't desire mountains, Nor do I desire coasts But when I knock your door, Death You would be a gracious host.