You're searching for a quiet spot
To sit, and have a little thought.
A place unhaunted by the fears
Of daily cares and passing years.
A place untroubled by the beat
And aimless rush of many feet.
You want a grassy corner where,
Untroubled by the mocking stare,
Of those who do not understand
You'll take a pen into your hand.
Take pen, and write a simple song
To pass unnoticed by the throng.
But then, someday when you are dead,
And granite molders at your head,
A careworn soul will read your lay
Of starry night and sunny day
And find the courage to depart
The beaten paths, and make a start
Upon the peaceful, grassy way
Where only kindred feet will stray.
At length to seek a weathered stone -
A grassy tomb, at peace, alone -
And say, (perhaps with grateful tear),
'My friend, your song has brought me here.'