My Tomb Stone Poem by Nero CaroZiv

Far from the human path; in solitude dig my grave,
On some green mound beside the hill where the winds moan and wave
To westward, the vexing sea with silver foaming gales and sky long alone,
And gore sunsets against my mossy stone,


With my mortal name and my dates, a harp
And bunch of wild flowers, carven sharp;
Then leave it free to darkness and to wild blasts that blow,
And patient mosses creeping over it by date and night; patient, sloth and slow,


Those wandering wings, visitors scarce and footsteps rare
Of some human creatures pausing there
Oh the dust upon my chest would not let it go; what a dire ordeal to bare
Eternally neglected; abandoned no attention and with no care


For who would come to stand across the brink
Of that deep dire hole into which I was thrown in sin
Come and visit me; for I cannot sink
So far- how far down should I been


As far down I shall lie; I shall know
The voice, and I shall answer from below
Oh let the willow whiten in the evening winds; aspens quiver
Little breezes of dusk and twilight wave and shiver



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