When My Day Comes - Sonnet 41

When my day comes, and I am laid to rest,

Take comfort that, beneath the woods and shade,

I am still with you. When the groundman's spade

Is hung up for the night, do not be pressed

To spurn its expertise, for by its hand

I will lay safe; it keeps my face in mind,

Just as you do today, tomorrow, shrined

Within your memory, where I may stand.

And when you go, returning to your life

Outside this haven of the peaceful dead,

I pray you take this peace with you instead

Of suffering, or aches and pains, or strife -

For this old world has far too much of those,

And on this earth, we are the joy we chose.