A Song of Spring

If I could choose a time to die
it would be in the Spring
when the grape hyacinth is in bloom
and the cowslips and the daffodils too.

If I could choose a place to die
it would not be in an antiseptic room
but in a woodland idyll
with a hart standing by.

If I could choose a dream to die in
it would be in another’s dream
of laughter and sun and magic.

If I could choose a love to die with
it would be my soul’s companion
of the years and I would float out
to the sea on the river of her tears.

But if I should choose to live
I would bang the drum,
set the orchestra in full voice,
and dance down all the days
in a riot of colour.