Lay me to rest in that lone lovely spot
Which I have loved, and o'er my grave plant flowers
Let not the funereal willow wave above:
I would remind thee, by all happy things,
Of her thou loved and lovest; and sometimes come
To that sweet spot and think of me, for all
My kindred's graves are far, and they who loved
Me in my early years will see me not.
Friend, dearest friend, thy love, thy love alone
Is all the sunshine which, unshaded ever,