Think not of decay when reapers lay claim,
Nor of sharp loss in following mourning;
On that day let hushed pleasantries acclaim.
And kiss the life from dulled eyes, unseeing.
Find not thy feet above flower-laid stones:
‘Neath earthly linen I shan’t rouse for thee.
So whether memories make new or old:
Beloved love, remember me fondly.
Sell thy sorrows to swift merchanting winds,
Be stolen by thy existence and time.
Overlook me for sanity’s defense,
But discard me not to the undefined.
My life doth re-begin through memory,
So my beloved love: remember me.