(15 September 1889 – 22 May 1948 / Clarendon)

When I Have Passed Away

When I have passed away and am forgotten,
And no one living can recall my face,
When under alien sod my bones lie rotten
With not a tree or stone to mark the place;

Perchance a pensive youth, with passion burning,
For olden verse that smacks of love and wine,
The musty pages of old volumes turning,
May light upon a little song of mine,

And he may softly hum the tune and wonder
Who wrote the verses in the long ago;
Or he may sit him down awhile to ponder
Upon the simple words that touch him so.

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Comments (4)

It is a reasonable hope that someone in future times might read and enjoy his poems. A consolation for lying dead in his grave. I read in one American poetry anthology that, ' Destitute and in poor health, Claude McKay died alone in Chicago'.
When I have passed away, How a poet would like him to be remembered, and very well rendered.
THE CONENT OF POEM APPEARS SIMPLISTIC YET IT TOUCHES ON MAN'S DESIRE TO BE IMMORTAL / TO BE REMEMBERED
THE CONENT OF POEM APPEARS SIMPLISTIC YET IT TOUCHES ON MAN'S DESIRE TO BE IMMORTAL / TO BE REMEMBERED