When I have passed away and am forgotten,
And no one living can recall my face,
When under alien sod my bones lie rotten
With not a tree or stone to mark the place;
Perchance a pensive youth, with passion burning,
For olden verse that smacks of love and wine,
The musty pages of old volumes turning,
May light upon a little song of mine,
And he may softly hum the tune and wonder
Who wrote the verses in the long ago;
Or he may sit him down awhile to ponder
Upon the simple words that touch him so.
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Comments
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Simply brilliant, this is what I think of when I read a poem the past that really touches my heart and soul. I wonder about the poet and what inspired him to write such a compelling piece of poetry. This was great and really touched me.
Avril
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