Classic Poem

Had I a claim to fame?
Little to honor;
Save when I spoke her name,
Gazing upon her.
Then was I crowned of men,
More than my seeming.
Youth's glorious hope again
Bannered my dreaming.

So, when our day is past;
When we lie stilly
Under the earth at last,
Clod by white lily.
Give me neither tear nor sigh;
Breath but this in passing by,
Where empearled with morning dew
The high grass above her
Waves, and above me too,--
"He was her lover!"