The Invitation

If the king reaper calls, O, and I cease to be Let not statesmen, or pious priest honor me But if you will celebrate one drop of memory Let me among the common folks find glory And all poets must come, invite you foremost My brothers and sisters who has been host To the passion the embue me, I invite you Because you understand the Word that made me And will not be surprise when yet before you My mortal clay decomposes to words, rise free To find home, hope, origin of roots and eternity For every cell and every humor change shall be Into the everlasting song that rings praise in glory