Oft - as alone I sit
I wonder what the three Fates knit,
What the future holds in store:
Will I be known for evermore?
Or when I die, will I be
so soon forgotten: like a tree
shedding its dead leaves in the fall
in spring, remembers them not at all?
I stand in awe of memorable men
I revere their honours and - like them
I would be remembered after death -
not like unto the fleeting breath
Which is drawn and then exhaled
And another drawn ere the first hath paled.
I would that those who are to come
Should know that here at least was one
Who was ambitious. I would remembered be... not sink forgotten to Eternity.
[Editor’s note: The poem was included at the end of the transcription of the letter of September 20, 1944.]