Classic Poem

I KNOW not why thy beauty should
Remind me of the cold, dark grave —
Thou Flower, as fair as Moonlight, when
She kissed the mouth of a black Cave.

All other Flowers can coax the Bees,
All other Flowers are sought but thee:
Dost thou remind them all of Death,
Sweet Flower, as thou remindest Me?

Thou seemest like a blessed ghost,
So white, so cold, though crowned with gold;
Among these glazed Buttercups,
And purple Thistles, rough and bold.

When I am dead, nor thought of more,
And gone from human memory —
Grow you on my forsaken grave,
And win for me a stranger's sigh.

A day or two the lilies fade;
A month, aye less, no friends are seen:
Then, claimant to forgotten graves,
Share my lost place with the wild green.