Little Pagan Rain Song
In the dark and peace of my final bed, The wet grass waving above my head, At rest from love, at rest from pain, I lie and listen to the rain. Falling, softly falling, Song of my soul that is free; Song of my soul that has not forgot The sleeping body of me. When quiet and calm and straight I lie, High in the air my soul rides by. Shall I await thee, soul, in vain? Hark to the answer in the rain. Falling, softly falling, Song of my soul that is free; Song of my soul that will not forget The sleeping body of me.