Classic Poem

In Earth's name, offer Kleitagoras a small but gracious favour, for the sake of Persephone under the earth, O shepherds, who frequent this mountain ridge, pasturing your goats and your fleecy sheep. Let the sheep bleat, and let the shepherd, seated upon an unhewn rock, pipe softly as they feed; and may the countryman wreathe my gravestone with the meadow-flowers of early spring, and may some one press the milk from the udder of a fruitful ewe to moisten the base of my tomb:
Such favours are rewarded even by the dead.