A Richer Dust
If these lungs fall flat - death rattles sigh,
And last thoughts hail an entropic mind...
If these brown-eyes glazed beneath their lids,
And this tongue tumesced and formed pursed lips:
With leaden heart, I’d bid you goodbye.
For all who die, and for all who mourn:
A richer dust blows from glen to glen...
If God exists, and ol’ souls reborn:
With riant heart, I’ll see you again.
Comments about this poem (A Richer Dust by John Frost )
Top 500 Poems
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
William Ernest Henley
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings