Mark not my grave with stone or sculpt'd urn
I want no labored art where I repose
When life is past and to dust I return
I'd live eternity 'neath the shadow of a rose.
Plant me a rose my resting place to hide
The crystal drops of dew her petals weep
Will seem like tears she'd not brushed aside
While at her feet her lover lies asleep
Merrill W. Hulse
