WHEN
When to the tired heart and soul and brain
There comes, at last, the Unrepeated Call,
Where Silence and Eternal Rest are all
Ahead of me, without one touch of pain—
Pause at the edge of this desired Dawn,
Turn down a glass, and then—Be glad I'm gone!
For what the Future holds who knows, or cares?
The Past is done, the Now is here alway—
So, lighten it for those who needs must stay,
Breathe no regrets for him who onward fares.
Back to the Night, face to the coming Dawn,
Bid him God-speed, and then—Be glad he's gone!