A Fragment: When, To Their Airy Hall
When,
to
their
airy
hall,
my
father's
voice
Shall
call
my
spirit,
joyful
in
their
choice;
When,
poised
upon
the
gale,
my
form
shall
ride,
Or,
dark
in
mist,
descend
the
mountains
side;
Oh!
may
my
shade
behold
no
sculptured
urns,
To
mark
the
spot
where
earth
to
earth
returns!
No
lengthen'd
scroll,
no
praise-encumber'd
stone;
My
epitaph
shall
be
my
name
alone:
If
that
with
honour
fail
to
crown
my
clay,
Oh!
may
no
other
fame
my
deeds
repay!
That,
only
that,
shall
single
out
the
spot;
By
that
remember'd,
or
with
that
forgot.
