In Pace

When I am dead, with mockery of praise
Thou shalt not vex the stillness of my sleep:
Leave me to long tranquillity and deep,
Who, through such weary nights and lonesome days,
Such hopeless stretch of uncompanioned ways,
Have come at length my quiet rest to keep
Where nettles thrive, and careless brambles creep,
And things that love the dark their dull brood raise.

After my restless years I would have rest, —
Long rest after so many restless years, —
Unmocked by hope, set free from haunting fears;
Since some old pain might waken at thy tread,
Do thou for once in this my heart's behest,
Come thou not nigh when I am lying dead.
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