Poem by Alfred Edward Housman

More Poems. 47. For My Funeral

O thou that from thy mansion,
        Through time and place to roam,
Dost send abroad thy children,
        And then dost call them home,

That men and tribes and nations
        And all thy hand hath made
May shelter them from sunshine
        In thine eternal shade:

We now to peace and darkness
        And earth and thee restore
Thy creature that thou madest
        And wilt cast forth no more.

1. More Poems. 21. The World Goes None the Lamer
2. Last Poems. 22. The Sloe Was Lost in Flower
3. More Poems. 14. The Farms of Home Lie Lost in Even
4. More Poems. 9. When Green Buds Hang in the Elm Like Dust
5. More Poems. 11. The Rainy Pleiads Wester

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