A dying heavenly light

signals home

as I lay dying

all alone.

The buckboard

bucks and rattles down

the blazing dust

of country road;

toward the gentle

green of tree

high on the hill

a plot for me.

I rave against the burn,

the sting of death;

no more to yearn.

I rage against the diggers *****.

Peace at rest where i am laid.

Free from this final walk on fire.

I've climbed to a celestial shire.