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When I Have Passed Away

by Claude McKay, 1922

When I have passed away and am forgotten,
  And no one living can recall my face,
When under alien sod my bones lie rotten
  With not a tree or stone to mark the place;

Perchance a pensive youth, with passion burning,
  For olden verse that smacks of love and wine,
The musty pages of old volumes turning,
  May light upon a little song of mine,

And he may softly hum the tune and wonder
  Who wrote the verses in the long ago;
Or he may sit him down awhile to ponder
  Upon the simple words that touch him so.

Published in Harlem Shadows

Any corrections or public domain poems I should have here? Email me at poems (at) this domain.