When I am gone, oh, let me take my rest On a plot of land where trees are blessed To spread their branches, push out their leaves Above the silent dead to comfort those who grieve
Beneath outstretching limbs let me lie in shade, Perhaps along some hidden mountain glade Where deer can browse on meadow grass That shimmers or shivers as seasons pass.
Let old roots penetrate my loam and grow Tall and straight as pines or crooked as old oaks, Store house for squirrels, nest home for wrens, Protection from the cold and owl along the glen.
Beneath a forest of varied green and steady brown Let me lie in peace outside some town Visited only by gentle rain and silent snow At home with God, and unaware of winds that blow.