The Poetry Corner

The Clay

By John Le Gay Brereton

When I cast my slough of clay Put it quietly away. Let no bloom untimely fade Where my empty heart is laid. Ask no folk to crowd around With an air of woe profound. Those who love me know that I Cannot in a coffin lie. Let them go whereer they will, Dreaming of me living still. Let no formal words be said Customary for the dead. Plant no stone above the pit: Let the grass run over it.