A Selection from the Lyrical Poems of Robert Herrick

72. TO LAURELS

     A funeral stone
     Or verse, I covet none;
     But only crave
     Of you that I may have
     A sacred laurel springing from my grave:
     Which being seen
     Blest with perpetual green,
     May grow to be
     Not so much call'd a tree,
     As the eternal monument of me.