Thursday, November 1, 2007

WHEN I AM DEAD by Sara Teasdale

When I am dead, and over me bright April

Shakes out her rain drenched hair,

Tho you should lean above me broken hearted,

I shall not care.

For I shall have peace,

As leafy trees are peaceful

When rain bends down the bough,

And I shall be more silent and cold hearted

Then you are now.