Claire V. Bogdanos

While pyramids do note the place

Where potents took their resting space

( In halls were all their treasures brought

To grace the afterlife they sought.)

My grave should in its stead be laid

Where all the things I’ve loved have stayed.

Those blossoms holding fast the ground

With willows sweeping all around

T’ would be my temple for all times

When bells have tolled the final chimes.

And if my life goes on no more,

Of all the pleasures I have stored

That memory of one sweet day

I felt the wind and watched it play,

There by the church’s chimney spire

Amid the graveyards funeral pyre,

To lift the leaves long sere and dead

To find one tiny budding head.

Thus this shall be my epitaph:

“ To some bread is their body staff

But I who dwelt alone so much

Now join God’s earth with feel and touch.”