The Last Poem
If I die here in Brooklyn
May Heaven protect me
Let no foriegn sycamore
Over me wave
I ask not to Greenwoods
Cold shades to collect me
Of grim and chislled marble
Pillared over my grave
But carry me back to the
Few friends that love me
Where the memories of boyhood
Flow sacred and free
And the angel voiced zeyphers
Shall whisper above me
Shall mourn o'er the waters
Of Miramichi
Hedley Parker
