TOLL not the bell of death for me When I am dead; Strew not the flowery wreath o'er me, On my cold bed. Let friendship's sacred tear On my fresh grave appear, Gemming with pearls my bier When I am dead. No dazzling, proud array Of pageantry display, My fate to spread; Let not the busy crowd be near, When I am dead, Fanning with unfelt sighs my bier, Sighs quickly sped. Deep let the impression rest On some fond female breast; Then were my memory blest, When I am dead. Let not the day be writ; Love will remember it Untold, unsaid. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WRITTEN IN EMERSON'S ESSAYS by MATTHEW ARNOLD COMFORT by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING THE WITCH by MARY ELIZABETH COLERIDGE TO PRIMROSES FILLED WITH MORNING DEW by ROBERT HERRICK ASSAULT by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY THE RUINES OF TIME by EDMUND SPENSER |