|by Robert Louis Stevenson (from Underwoods, 1887)|
Under the wide and starry sky,
Dig the grave and let me lie.
Glad did I live and gladly die,
And I laid me down with a will.
This be the verse you grave for me:
Here he lies where he longed to be;
Home is the sailor, home from sea,
And the hunter home from the hill.
(Note from your Guide: Stevenson wrote this poem long before he died and always intended it for his own epitaph. After he was taken from life suddenly by a cerebral hemorrhage at his home at Vaiilima in Samoa in 1894, the poem was inscribed on his tombstone on top of Mount Vaea overlooking the house he had lived in. That inscription contains one misquote which has often been repeated: “Home is the sailor, home from the sea.”)