Some Day In Spring, When Earth Is Fair And Glad, And Sweet Birds Sing, And Fewest Hearts Are Sad -- Shall I Die Then? Ah! Me, No Matter When; I Know It Will Be Sweet To Leave The Homes Of Men And Rest Beneath The Sod, To Kneel And Kiss Thy Feet In Thy Home, O My God! Some Summer Morn Of Splendors And Of Songs, When Roses Hide The Thorn And Smile -- The SpirIt's Wrongs -- Shall I Die Then? Ah! Me, No Matter When; I Know I Will Rejoice To Leave The Haunts Of Men And Lie Beneath The Sod, To Hear Thy Tender Voice In Thy Home, O My God! Some Autumn Eve, When Chill Clouds Drape The Sky, When Bright Things Grieve Because All Fair Things Die -- Shall I Die Then? Ah! Me, No Matter When, I Know I Shall Be Glad, Away From The Homes Of Men, Adown Beneath The Sod, My Heart Will Not Be Sad In Thy Home, O My God! Some Wintry Day, When All Skies Wear A Gloom, And Beauteous May Sleeps In December'S Tomb, Shall I Die Then? Ah! Me, No Matter When; My Soul Shall Throb With Joy To Leave The Haunts Of Men And Sleep Beneath The Sod. Ah! There Is No Alloy In Thy Joys, O My God! Haste, Death! Be Fleet; I Know It Will Be Sweet To Rest Beneath The Sod, To Kneel And Kiss Thy Feet In Heaven, O My God!