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
But friends would know that resting there
Is he, who loved a tree
My heart is glad, my heart is high
With sudden ecstacy!
I have given back, before I die,
Some thanks for every lovely tree
That dead men grew for me.