Margaret

No, thou must linger here in sorrow! The graves I will describe to thee, And thou to them must see To-morrow: The best place give to my mother, Close at her side my brother, Me at some distance lay-- But not too far away! And the little one place on my right breast. Nobody else will near me lie! To nestle beside thee so lovingly, That was a rapture, gracious and sweet! A rapture I never again shall prove; Methinks I would force myself on thee, love, And thou dost spurn me, and back retreat-- Yet 'tis thyself, thy fond kind looks I see.