The Day That I Die

The day that I die shall the sky be clear
And the east sea-wind blow free,
Sweeping along with its rover’s song
To bear my soul to sea.
They will carry me out of the bamboo hut
To the driftwood piled on the lea,
And ye that name me in after years,
This shall ye say of me:

That I followed the road of the restless gull
As free as a vagrant breeze,
That I bared my breast to the wind’s unrest
And the wrath of the driving seas.
That I loved the song of the thrumming spar
And the lift of the plunging prow,
But I could not bide in the seaport towns
And I could not follow the plow.

For ever the wind came out of the east
To beckon me on and on,
The sunset’s lure was my paramour
And I loved each rose-pale dawn.
That I lived to a straight and simple creed
The whole of my worldly span
And white or black or yellow I dealt
Foursquare with my fellow man.

That I drained life’s cup to its blood-red lees
And thrilled my every vein.
But I did not frown when I laid it down
To lift it never again.
That my spirit ever turned my steps
To the naked morning lands
And I came to rest on an unknown isle –
Jade cliffs and silver sands.

And I breathed my last with a simple tribe,
A people savage and free.
And they gave my body unto the fire,
And my soul to the reinless sea.


*****DISCLAIMER********
I am not about to do anything to hasten this day, but PPD (Post-Pennsic) depression has got enough of a hold on me that, for the first time since I started on medication, I am looking forward to it. When all that remains in your life is duty, that can be a powerful hold, but it is a lonely one.