Make me no grave within that quiet place
      Where friends shall sadly view the grassy mound,
Politely solemn for a little space,
      As though the spirit slept beneath the ground.

For me no sorrow, nor the  hopeless tear;
      No chant, no prayer, no tender eulogy:
I may be laughing with the gods- while here
      You weep alone. Then make no grave for me.

But lay me where the pines, austere and tall;
      Sing in the wind that sweep across the West:
Where night, imperious, sets her coronal
      Of silver stars upon the mountain crest.

Where dawn, rejoicing, rises  from the deep,
       And life, rejoicing, rises with the dawn:
Mark not the spot upon the sunny steep,
      For with the morning light I shall be gone.    

Far trails await me; valleys vast and still,
      Vistas undreamed of, canyon-guarded steams,
Lowland and range, air meadow, flower-girt hill,
      Forests enchanted, filled with magic dreams.

And I shall find brave comrades on the way:
      None shall be lonely in adventuring,
For each a chosen task to round the day ,
       New glories to amaze, new songs to sing.

Loud swells the wind along the mountain-side:
      High burns the sun, unfettered swings the sea,
Clear gleam the trails whereon the vanished ride,
      Life calls to life: then make no grave for me.

                              Henry Herbert Knibbs

 

"His Heart Sleeps" by Charles M. Russell, 1911

Compare what Russell said in his painting with what  Henry Herbert Knibbs said in his poem:

Make me no grave among that quiet place
.  . . .
    But lay me where the pines, austere and tall,
   Sing in the wind that sweep across the West
. . . .

Of course Russell was expressing Indian tradition and faith; but still, Russell's paintings leads one to believe that he and Knibbs and the Indian depicted in the painting, were of one mind,
"Make Me No Grave". Here is a copy of a letter with a poem penned by  Russell.

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