When I pass to my reward.
Whatever that may be,
I’d like my friends to think of me
As one who loved a tree.
I’d like a tree to mark the spot
Where I am laid to rest
For that would be the epitaph
That I would like the best.
Tho it’s not carved upon a stone
For those who come to see me
would know that resting there
Is he, who loved a tree
My heart is glad, my head is high
I have given back, before I die,
Some thanks for every lovely tree
That dead men grew for me.
V. H. Friedlaendeer
This is a slightly modified version of a poem (borrowed from the web)