Classic Poem

If the mattock strike
Stone or the spade
Bite flint or the spike
Split rock, be not afraid:
The grave will be delayed,
But the grave will be made.

Not a pebble or chip
Must ruffle the bed
Or roughen the lip
Of the flesh that is fled:
A dream for the dead
And white linen instead.

The hole must be deep,
Well-paved and firm,
For the long hard sleep,
For the walk of the worm.