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(May I lie in peace)



Let there be grass and trees to blow

And fold me in their shadow

Branches to shake and leaves

Turn brown, fall and lie fallow.

Let there be moorlands swept by wind

And raked by rain, purple splashes of heather

In autumn and sturdy boulders our forefathers

Carved their names on, emerald and slippery with moss

And pebble-strewn sheep-tracks crossing ditch and dyke

Where sudden rills of hill water strike free from

Hidden meanderings with the splash and rush

Of sudden laughter.



Let me lie with the sighing wind for choir,

Moss and lichen my only cover

When my earthy days are over.

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