Classic Poem

When you and I are asleep, my love,
Under the carven stone;
Who will there be left to weep, my love,
Of all that we have known?
But the lark will sing as clear and free,
As she springs from her nest by the alder-tree,
And the robin carol his hearts desire,
Above us in the red-rose brier.

Though your voice is low and weak, my dear,
There is love-light in your eye!
Though the roses fade from your cheek, my dear,
Love's roses never die!
Buts it's oh, for the long and lasting sleep,
Where the wild-wood honeysuckles creep!
Under the violets to lie,
And let the weary world go by.