My Spirit Will Not Haunt The Mound Above My Breast, But Travel, Memory-Possessed, To Where My Tremulous Being Found Life Largest, Best. My Phantom-Footed Shape Will Go When Nightfall Grays Hither And Thither Along The Ways I And Another Used To Know In Backward Days. And There You'll Find Me, If A Jot You Still Should Care For Me, And For My Curious Air; If Otherwise, Then I Shall Not, For You, Be There.