When I die -- and no doubt I will

Although I can hardly believe it still

I'd rather not have the usual funeral,

With sad long faces, and sad songs …

Let me rather have a showing

Of all the things I've painted and loved …

And perhaps may miss.

The pink geraniums … the sweet peas and roses …

The places far off and places near …

The plain folks, old and young,

The fair, the dark … the trees and fields …

The city streets and the lights …

The moon, round and yellow …

The seas, the lakes, the oceans.

God, send me off with a paintbrush and colors.

Perhaps, in the endless repose, I can dream

And paint whatever there I may behold.

Let what I have done here on earth,

Cheer any who may come to pay respect

And that they may catch a gleam of all

The happiness I felt as I tried to tell,

In paint, the joy I had in people

And places and everything …