A little cross, To tell my loss; A little bed To rest my head; A little tear is all I crave Upon my very little grave. I strew thy bed Who loved thy lays; The tear I shed, The cross I raise, With nothing more upon it than- Here lies the little friend of Man! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 44 by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN THE USE OF FLOWERS by MARY HOWITT THE NEW YEAR by ALFRED TENNYSON FIFTY FAGGOTS by PHILIP EDWARD THOMAS TO A REPUBLICAN FRIEND, 1848, CONTINUED by MATTHEW ARNOLD SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 4. THE OLD VALLEY by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) |