Whistling the Last Melody

Rain that slowly pelts on the roses in sorrow, don't make them weep any longer, instead whisper the last melody that they learned from the merry lark that helped them through their agony! Thousands are the warm raindrops that fall from swollen clouds effecting the words I'm writing on the lines of this notebook; rain of the happiest of seasons, keep these tears from falling and save this poem from disappearing: everybody must know of my legacy! Cliff swallows gathered under the dripping gutters, raise your soft churs to the immense space and supplicate the unstoppable rain to cease and make you sing more harmoniously than ever! Lilies of delicate aspect, don't erase the candor which made me unique in all emotions and thoughts, leave it intact as my character; o flowers chosen by me for their purity: adorn my grave until November arrives and gelid wind will disperse them! How much joy it would offer me, beyond relief, if strangers who appreciate my humane poetry brought flowers from a near meadow and lied them down gently and whistling the last melody, so cheerfully, recognized what I heartedly gave to all of Humanity!