Classic Poem

WHEN it is done,
The laughter and weeping;
When the heart hushes,
When the brain stills;
When I lie down
For Silence and Sleeping,
O let it be, at last, on the hills!

On the high hills
Where gladly to wander
Is my delight
As the wind knows;
Where without tomb
For any to ponder
I may, still facing the stars, repose.