Last Things

THERE is no one to do it for me,

But I know what I shall do

When the last dawn breaks o'er me

And the last night is through.

I shall set in pleasant order

The little books I knew,

With flowers on the window ledge

In a shallow bowl of blue.

I'll leave the out door swinging,

( As it might swing for you )

And on the clean swept door-sill

Wild roses I shall strew —

So when pale Death comes trailing

Her branch of sodden rue

She'll gather up my gay content

And know contentment too!