And when I come to the dim trail—end,
I who have been Life’s rover,
This is all I would ask, my friend,
Over and over and over:
A little space on a stony hill
With never another near me,
Sky o’ the North that’s vast and still,
With a single star to cheer me;
Star that gleams on a moss—grey stone
Graven by those who love me—
There would I lie alone, alone,
With a single pine above me;
Pine that the north wind whinneys through—
Oh, I have been Life’s lover!
But there I’d lie and listen to
Eternity passing over.
Other works by Robert W. Service...
