by Luis G. Dato

When I am dead, will you then think of me
More kindly, when I cease to haunt you dear
Or dog your steps in school or church no more,
Will I seem better in the memory,
Less rude, unseemly than reality?
Will you perhaps, relenting, then deplore
The days that could have been, dumb Heaven implore
For my repose in His eternity?

Perhaps from your sweet lips so virginal
Might you allow for once a wishful sigh,
From eyes that Heaven were to me let fall
A tear I’ll feel warm on my lips where I
Lie lifeless, but shall be like fire to call
Me back to you though dead a century!

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