When I am dead what shall I leave to you?
Some faint imaginings, a doubt or two,
And one great dream that never could come true.
When I am dead then I will leave to you
A legacy of little things we knew
When the sun shone, and when the sky was blue--
The dusty windings of a road in Spain,
A smile you left upon the window-pane,
The only tear you ever wept in vain.
Your tangled sweetnesses divinely grave,
The silent memories of you I have
Deep, timid secrets struggling to be brave.
For I will leave you no heroic thing,
No unguessed poverty of Pope or King,
A ring of smoke, but not a ruby ring.
Proud as a beggar, lonely as the free,
What I gave you must still belong to me,
But what you gave is called eternity.
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