POEM | ISAAC LOH —
When we leave this place for another
To travel the worlds still unknown
With but recollections of others
Without the things petty we own
I think I might die disheartened,
Gazing sadly at long-lived life,
That I made not more mem’ries forgotten,
That I dwelled on gratuitous strife
I think I might die with sadness,
For my valuing things ephemeral
For my wanting of faith and of goodness,
And my numerous failings innumerable
Yet I was received in a world so kind,
I would grieve most of all to leave this good world behind
The Dutch Report 