Smile.

DIRGE

We do lie beneath the grass  
   In the moonlight, in the shade  
 Of the yew-tree. They that pass  
   Hear us not. We are afraid  
     They would envy our delight,
     In our graves by glow-worm night.  
Come follow us, and smile as we;  
   We sail to the rock in the ancient waves,  
Where the snow falls by thousands into the sea,  
   And the drown’d and the shipwreck’d have happy graves.

Thomas Lovell Beddoes