When My Time Is Come

When my time is come to die, I would shun the decent gloom, Whispered word and weeping eye, Fitful hum of knowing fly Questing through the darkened room. I would lay my skin and bone Where no busy care could trace Failing steps by bush and stone, With my farewell dream alone In a bird-frequented place. So the sounds that bless my ear When my weary eyelids close Will be songs of hope and cheer; So departing, I shall hear How the tide of living flows. So my memories shall not be Blurred by griefs however true; So my drowsy sense may see Eyes that light in love on me; So I'll not be leaving you.