Hubert Parry — No Longer Mourn for Me

No longer mourn for me when I am dead Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell Give warning to the world that I am fled From this vile world with vilest worms to dwell: Nay, if you read this line, remember not The hand that writ it, for I love you so That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot If thinking on me then should make you woe O! if, -- I say you look upon this verse When I perchance compounded am with clay Do not so much as my poor name rehearse; But let your love even with my life decay; Lest the wise world should look into your moan And mock you with me after I am gone