Classic Poem

TO A HAREBELL GROWING BY A GRAVE

Pretty flower! mourn for me:
I'd rather hear thee sigh
Than friends that counterfeit a grief,
They feel no more than I!

Pretty flower! mourn for me:
I'd rather have thy tear,
Than all a hypocritic world
Could waste upon my bier!

Pretty flower! mourn for me:
And dirger's time to save,
Hang down thy little passing-bell
And ring me to my grave!