A Song at Parting

The tick of the blood is settling slow, my heart will soon be still. And ripe and ready am I for rest in the grave atop the hill ; So gather me up and lay me down, for ready and ripe am I, For the weary vigil with sightless eyes that may not see the sky.

I have lived my life : I have spilt the wine that God the Maker gave, So carry me up the lonely hill and lay me in the grave, And cover me in with cleanly mould and old and lichened stones. In a place where ever the cry of the wind shall thrill my sleepy bones.

Gather me up and lay me down with an old song and a prayer, Cover me in with wholesome earth, and weep and leave me there ; And get you gone with a kindly thought and an old tune and a sigh, And leave me alone, asleep, at rest, for ready and ripe am I.