My Wish Poem by Samuel Alfred Beadle

As I strive to lift the burden,
When intense becomes the strife,
If you are friendly, brother,
While the tumult is rife,
Is the time above all others,
For the helping hand in life.

And when I am growing weary,
Victory seems in doubt,
Then come to my rescue, brother,
With praises loud speak out,
Do not wait till I have conquered,
To raise the cheering shout.

If the fight is drawn, my brother,
I neither lose nor win,
Will you keep your place beside me,
Till I try it again,
Till I mend my broken armor,
And try my hand again?

If the battle goes against me,
I'm smitten hip and thigh,
It is then and there, my brother,
I'd like to have you nigh,
With your valor and your courage,
And not your sympathy.

And when I'm done, my brother,
When my final word is said,
When I sleep beneath the grasses
Where the daisy lifts its head,
In the place of polished marble
Plant the roses instead.

You may leave me off your praises,
When they make my humble bed,
In the silent land of shadows
With the green sod over head -
If I am forgot while living,
Forget me when I'm dead.

Just leave me to the memory
Of him I used to know,
Of the friend who stood beside me
So many years ago,
When you were quoting calumny
And I was plucking crow.