如果她死了，她的坟墓应该在光秃秃的山顶上，在她自己美丽土地的沼地里，在一圈长满青苔的老石头中间，到处都是金雀花和石南花。在她温柔的尸体上不应该有高大的石碑，没有大理石的坟墓;——沉重的石堆会太粗暴地压在她仙女的四肢上。草皮应该轻，标志着她的家。那将是一个神圣的地方——每一只来瞻仰她孤独的坟墓的鸟儿都将是神圣的。鹿应该在她周围不受干扰地浏览;鸣鸟飞过，她要筑起孤独的巢，无所畏惧;因为她在生活中喜欢看到万事万物都有幸福——我们会在四周阳光明媚的夏日里来到这里，让我们坐下来，想想草皮下的一切，那只粗心的野鸟栖息在草皮上，吹着他那又长又尖又痛苦的歌，仿佛在为爱他和他那美丽山岗的她哀怨;我们会再次梦见过去的日子，直到热泪盈眶，因为灿烂的希望——全都烟消云散!就像在伊拉克的沙滩上，接近摧毁了旅行者眼中平静的湖泊、芦苇覆盖的小溪和绿色的草地;留下的是阴暗的现实，没有阴影，相同的，但不断变化的沙子! And when the sullen clouds rose thick on high Mountains on mountains rolling-and dark mist Wrapped itself round the hill-tops like a shroud, When on her grave swept by the moaning wind Bending the heather-bells-then would I come And watch by her, in silent loneliness, And smile upon the storm-as knowing well The lightning's flash would surely turn aside, Nor mar the lowly mound, where peaceful sleeps All that gave life and love to one fond heart! I talk of things that are not; and if prayers By night and day availed from my weak lips, Then should they never be! till I was gone, Before the friends I loved, to my long home. Oh pardon me, if e'er I say too much; my mind Too often strangely turns to ribald mirth, As though I had no doubt nor hope beyond- Or brooding melancholy cloys my soul With thoughts of days misspent, of wasted time And bitter feelings swallowed up in jests. Then strange and fearful thoughts flit o'er my brain By indistinctness made more terrible, And incubi mock at me with fierce eyes Upon my couch: and visions, crude and dire, Of planets, suns, millions of miles, infinity, Space, time, thought, being, blank nonentity, Things incorporeal, fancies of the brain, Seen, heard, as though they were material, All mixed in sickening mazes, trouble me, And lead my soul away from earth and heaven Until I doubt whether I be or not! And then I see all frightful shapes-lank ghosts, Hydras, chimeras, krakens, wastes of sand, Herbless and void of living voice-tall mountains Cleaving the skies with height immeasurable, On which perchance I climb for infinite years; broad seas, Studded with islands numberless, that stretch Beyond the regions of the sun, and fade Away in distance vast, or dreary clouds, Cold, dark, and watery, where wander I for ever! Or space of ether, where I hang for aye! A speck, an atom-inconsumable- Immortal, hopeless, voiceless, powerless! And oft I fancy, I am weak and old, And all who loved me, one by one, are dead, And I am left alone-and cannot die! Surely there is no rest on earth for souls Whose dreams are like a madman's! I am young And much is yet before me-after years May bring peace with them to my weary heart! Helston, 1835.