(To A Man Who Maintained That The Mausoleum Is The Stateliest Possible Manner Of Interment) I Would Be One With The Dark, Dark Earth: - Follow The Plough With A Yokel Tread. I Would Be Part Of The Indian Corn, Walking The Rows With The Plumes O'Erhead. I Would Be One With The Lavish Earth, Eating The Bee-Stung Apples Red: Walking Where Lambs Walk On The Hills; By Oak-Grove Paths To The Pools Be Led. I Would Be One With The Dark-Bright Night When Sparkling Skies And The Lightning Wed - Walking On With The Vicious Wind By Roads Whence Even The Dogs Have Fled. I Would Be One With The Sacred Earth On To The End, Till I Sleep With The Dead. Terror Shall Put No Spears Through Me. Peace Shall Jewel My Shroud Instead. I Shall Be One With All Pit-Black Things Finding Their Lowering Threat Unsaid: Stars For My Pillow There In The Gloom, - Oak-Roots Arching About My Head! Stars, Like Daisies, Shall Rise Through The Earth, Acorns Fall Round My Breast That Bled. Children Shall Weave There A Flowery Chain, Squirrels On Acorn-Hearts Be Fed: - Fruit Of The Traveller-Heart Of Me, Fruit Of My Harvest-Songs Long Sped: Sweet With The Life Of My Sunburned Days When The Sheaves Were Ripe, And The Apples Red.