John Clare's poems

I would not that my being all should die

And pass away with every common lot

I would not that my humble dust should lie

In quite a strange and unfrequented spot

By all unheeded and by all forgot

With nothing save the heedless winds to sigh

And nothing but the dewy morn to weep

About my grave far hid from the worlds eye

I feign would have some friend to wander nigh

And find a path to where my ashes sleep

Not the cold heart that merely passes bye

To read who lieth there but such that keep

Past memories warm with deeds of other years

And pay to friendship some few friendly tears