Page:The poems of Emma Lazarus volume 1.djvu/179

Rh My body dust and ashes shall remain, Tired heart and brain shall sleep. &quot; Life has one gate alone, Obscure, beset with peril and fierce pain. Large death has many portals to his fane, Why choose we to make moan? &quot; Why dwell with worms and clay When we may soar through air on wings of flame, Dissolve to small, white dust our perfect frame, And never know decay? &quot; A brother s pious hand The pure, fire-winnowed ashes shall inurn, And lay them in the orange grove where burn Globed suns that scent the land. &quot; The leaf shall be more green, Even for my dust more snowy-soft the flower, More juicy-sweet the fruit’s live pulp the bower Richer that I have been. &quot; For I would not,&quot; he said, &quot; Tears and the black pall and the wormy grave, Grief s hideous panoply I would not have Round me when I am dead.&quot;