When I Am Dead
‘So I spoke, and the spirit of swift-footed Achilles departed with long strides across the fields of asphodel, pleased that I said his son was famous.’
— The Odyssey, PALMER’S translation, book xi, lines 539-540.
WHEN I am dead I make no plea
For wakeful immortality
Among the spirits of the blest.
Nor would I, an unbidden guest,
Return to earth, once being free.
For wakeful immortality
Among the spirits of the blest.
Nor would I, an unbidden guest,
Return to earth, once being free.
But I would lie beneath the lea,
Knowing nor hope nor memory —
W’hat matter then the futile quest
When I am dead?
Knowing nor hope nor memory —
W’hat matter then the futile quest
When I am dead?
Yet should the silence broken be
E’en thus: — ‘Thy son, whom thou didst see
A baby at his mother’s breast,
Unto thy ungained goal hath pressed,’ —
Ah, that were bliss enough for me
When I am dead.
E’en thus: — ‘Thy son, whom thou didst see
A baby at his mother’s breast,
Unto thy ungained goal hath pressed,’ —
Ah, that were bliss enough for me
When I am dead.