Bones at dying shall not quake
Nor decay with the feasting of the worms
For the spirit of this God loving soul
Shall never harbour in the ground.

I have burst free with that force
Which drove each flower up into the light
And soul tossed by furies of purple storms
I shall shelter where the mind creates its visions.

Colin Ian Jeffery

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/bones-at-dying/