When as clay I do return
to the earth from where I hailed
by the years as soil turned
I hope sweet flowers I may yield
for nothing lives and nothing dies
infinity allows no ends
much of the essence then survives
and in eternal ages spends
When as clay I do return
to the earth from where I hailed
by the years as soil turned
I hope sweet flowers I may yield
for nothing lives and nothing dies
infinity allows no ends
much of the essence then survives
and in eternal ages spends