Christ Jesus, when I come to die </br> Grant me a clean, sweet, summer sky, </br> Without the mad wind's panther cry. </br> Send me a little garden b… - Hervey Allen

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Christ Jesus, when I come to die </br> Grant me a clean, sweet, summer sky, </br> Without the mad wind's panther cry. </br> Send me a little garden breeze </br> To gossip in magnolia trees; </br> For I have heard, these fifty years, </br> Confessions muttered at my ears, </br> Till every mumble of the wind </br> Is like tired voices that have sinned.