Poems (Mary Coleridge)/Poem 110

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CX
O Earth, my mother! not upon thy breastWould I my heavy head in death recline,Would I lay down these weary limbs of mineWhen the great Voice shall call me into rest.Too well have I obeyed thy gay behest,Too eagerly have worshipped at thy shrine;The better part of all my life was thine,I used thee as a lover not a guest.I would not make with thee my dying bed,Low, low beneath thy lowest let me be;Far from thy living, farther from thy dead,From every fetter of remembrance free,Deep in some ocean cave, and overheadThe ceaseless sounding of thy waves, O Sea!
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