Now that the sunlight dies in my eyes, <br />And the moonlight grows in my hair, <br />I who was never very wise, <br />Never was very fair, <br />Virgin and martyr all my life, <br />What has life left to give <br />Me--who was never mother nor wife, <br />Never got leave to live? <br /> <br />Nothing of life could I clasp or claim, <br />Nothing could steal or save. <br />So when you come to carve my name, <br />Give me life in my grave. <br />To keep me warm when I sleep alone <br />A lie is little to give; <br />Call me 'Magdalen' on my stone, <br />Though I died and did not live.<br /><br />Edith Nesbit<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-death-of-agnes/
