<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=408442" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>When Underneath the Brown Dead Grass</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">When underneath the brown dead grass<br>My weary bones are laid,<br>I hope I shall not see the glass<br>At ninety in the shade.<br>I trust indeed that, when I lie<br>Beneath the churchyard pine,<br>I shall not hear that startling cry<br>“‘Thermom’ is ninety-nine!” <br>If one should whisper through my sleep<br>“Come up and be alive,”<br>I’d answer—No, unless you’ll keep<br>The glass at sixty-five.<br>I might be willing if allowed<br>To wear old Adam’s rig,<br>And mix amongst the city crowd<br>Like Polynesian “nig”. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Far better in the sod to lie,<br>With pasturing pig above,<br>Than broil beneath a copper sky—<br>In sight of all I love!<br>Far better to be turned to grass<br>To feed the poley cow,<br>Than be the half boiled bream, alas,<br>That I am really now! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">For cow and pig I would not hear,<br>And hoof I would not see;<br>But if these items did appear<br>They wouldn’t trouble me.<br>For ah! the pelt of mortal man<br>Weighs less than half a ton,<br>And any sight is better than<br>A sultry southern sun.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Henry+Kendall">Henry Kendall</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=408442" data-title="When Underneath the Brown Dead Grass de Henry Kendall" data-description="When underneath the brown dead grass My weary bones are laid, I hope I shall not see the glass At ninety in the shade. I trust indeed that, when I lie Beneath the churchyard pine, I shall not hear that startling cry “‘Thermom’ is ninety-nine..."></div> </div> </div>

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