Classic Poem

At the grim end, no prison for me
Wherein my blanched mortality,
Immured, shall lie, because it must,
Till it resolve itself to dust.

Nay, let a flame, of mystic might
To make corruption clean and light,
Prepare my body for its Fate,
From loathly things inviolate.

Then, standing by great waters, where
The heavens stretch wide, and sun and air
And ampleness inhabit, cast
My ashes to the azure Vast.

And I shall thank you, being blent
With what I love, the element
Of earth refined and caught away;
Yea, I shall thank you and shall say:

“The fierce purgation of the fire
Has loosed my spirit, I aspire
Toward God, I mount, elate and free,
One with the wind and sky and sea.”