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.