ASPHODEL.— Aspho-dbi/os Luteus. 
“ My regrets follow you to the grove." 
When in the shadow of the tomb 
This heart shall rest, 
Oh, lay me where spring flowerets bloom 
On earth’s green breast. 
Bat ne’er in vaulted chambers lay 
My lifeless form ; 
Seek not of such poor worthless prey 
To cheat the worm. 
In some sweet city of the dead 
I fain would sleep, 
Where flowers may deck my narrow bed, 
And night-dews weep. 
And raise not the sepulchral urn 
To mark the spot; 
Enough if but by love alone 
> Tis ne’er forgot. 
