When I must go, I wish a time like autumn
musically dressed in showers of red and gold
as if to think, departing earth, I caught some
fresh luster from the bliss of growing old,
some fuller fruitfulness made rich with seed
whose burden is its blessing, though I go,
going fulfilled, not cumbered by the need
to tend fields younger hands must reap and sow.
I wish to pass as grass, from change to change
unwearied, having brought my sheaves to store,
at peace for having spanned the broadest range
of life and love still sensing something more
to try and find like leaves tumbling from trees
an urge of wind, a freedom on the breeze.