Oh! Death will find me, long before I tire br Of watching you; and swing me suddenly br Into the shade and loneliness and mire br Of the last land! There, waiting patiently, br br One day, I think, I'll feel a cool wind blowing, br See a slow light across the Stygian tide, br And hear the Dead about me stir, unknowing, br And tremble. And I shall know that you have died, br br And watch you, a broad-browed and smiling dream, br Pass, light as ever, through the lightless host, br Quietly ponder, start, and sway, and gleam -- br Most individual and bewildering ghost! -- br br And turn, and toss your brown delightful head br Amusedly, among the ancient Dead.