Classic Poem

The thought will sometimes come to me—
Where will I die, and in what way,
In gloom of night or light of day,
When will the solemn moment be?

Will any one a vigil keep,
Will I from the ordeal shrink
Or calmly in the dark sea sink;
Will any grieve—will any weep?

Where shall my grave be—will a stone
Be raised to mark awhile the spot,
Or will rude strangers, caring not,
Bury a man to them unknown?

O wife, when, how, or where, I trust
That He whose power serveth
Will reunite us after death
And resurrection from the dust.