VI.

When all is over, lay me down

Far from this dull and jaded town,

Not in a churchyard's ordered bound,

But in some wide green meadow-ground.

No stone upon me! Above all

Let no cold railing's shadows fall

Across my rest. Dead, let me be

What no one may be living — free.

Let no one mourning garments wear,

And if you love me, shed no tear;

Do n't weight me with a clay-built heap,

But plant the daisies where I sleep.

There is a certain field I know,

I met my dear there, years ago;

Perhaps, if you should speak them fair,

They'd let you lay her lover there.

Laid there, perhaps my ears would hear

The ceaseless singing of the weir,

The soft wind sighing thro’ the grass,

And hear the little children pass.

Or, if my ears were stopped with clay

From all sweet sounds of night and day,

I should at least ( so lay me there )

Sleep better there than anywhere!