Laid out for dead, let thy last kindness be <br />With leaves and moss-work for to cover me; <br />And while the wood-nymphs my cold corpse inter, <br />Sing thou my dirge, sweet-warbling chorister! <br />For epitaph, in foliage, next write this: <br />HERE, HERE THE TOMB OF ROBIN HERRICK IS!<br /><br />Robert Herrick<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-robin-red-breast/
