Page:New poems and variant readings, Stevenson, 1918.djvu/80

60 Bury me low in valleys green

And where the milder breeze

Blows fresh along the stream,

Sings roundly in the trees—

Bury me low and let me lie

Under the wide and starry sky.

Joying to live, I joyed to die,

Bury me low and let me lie.

WHAT MAN MAY LEARN, WHAT MAN MAY DO

man may learn, what man may do,

Of right or wrong of false or true,

While, skipper-like, his course he steers

Through nine and twenty mingled years,

Half misconceived and half forgot,

So much I know and practise not.

Old are the words of wisdom, old

The counsels of the wise and bold:

To close the ears, to check the tongue,

To keep the pining spirit young;

To act the right, to say the true,

And to be kind whate'er you do.