Classic Poem

They should not have buried thee here!
Oh, they should have made thee a bed
Where flow'rs at thy feet would appear,
And the birds would sing over thy head.

Oh, they should have laid thee to rest
From the smoke of the city away,
Where the dew would fall bright on thy breast,
And the green turf would cover thy clay.

Afar in the forest's green shade
The tall pine above thee should wave,
Where the bluebird would perch o'er thy head,
And the whip-poor-will sit on thy grave;

Where Spring would come forth with her smiles,
And the birds, that to thee were so dear,
Would sing 'mong the green leafy aisles
The songs thou delightedst to hear.

And the red man would marvel to meet
A grave in the green forest shade;
And the hunter, at evening, would sit
And weep where thine ashes were laid.

They should not have buried thee here,
With no forest above thee to wave;
But have borne thee away on thy bier
Where the birds would sing over thy grave.