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Matthew F. Maury’s Last Wish
(Excerpt)
“HOME,—bear me home at last,” he said, | |
| “And lay me where my dead are lying, | |
| But not while skies are overspread, | |
| And mournful wintry winds are sighing. | |
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| “Wait till the royal march of Spring | 5 |
| Carpets your mountain fastness over,— | |
| Till chattering birds are on the wing, | |
| And buzzing bees are in the clover. | |
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| “Wait till the laurel bursts its buds, | |
| And creeping ivy flings its graces | 10 |
| About the lichened rocks, and floods | |
| Of sunshine fill the shady places. | |
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| “Then, when the sky, the air, the grass, | |
| Sweet Nature all, is glad and tender, | |
| Then bear me through the Goshen Pass, | 15 |
| Amid its flush of May-day splendor.” | |
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| So will we bear him! Human heart | |
| To the warm Earth’s drew never nearer, | |
| And never stooped she to impart | |
| Lessons to one who held them dearer. * * * * * | 20 |
| His noble living for the ends | |
| God set him (duty underlying | |
| Each thought, word, action) naught transcends | |
| In lustre, save his nobler dying. | |
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| Do homage, sky, and air, and grass, | 25 |
| All things he cherished, sweet and tender, | |
| As through our gorgeous mountain-pass | |
| We bear him in the May-day splendor! | |
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