Elysian Poem by Martin King

When breath vacates my body in a sigh,
And hooded Death has clutched me to his chest,
When softly in Elysian Fields tread I,

I'll walk in fields of green with those held high,
Once from my cold cadaver I am wrest,
When breath vacates my body in a sigh,

Midst Poets, Artists, giants all, here I
Shall stroll in peace, my heart at rest,
When softly in Elysian Fields tread I,

'Cross the Acheron may my ferry fly,
May Charon punt and pole and never rest,
When breath vacates my body in a sigh,

I pray the day this comes to pass that I
Be counted in amongst those truly blest,
When softly in Elysian Fields tread I,

I beg that when I leave this place don't cry,
For I will venture on a greater quest,
When breath vacates my body in a sigh,
When softly in Elysian Fields tread I.