XXXVIII

Saying moreover, 'Isabel, my sweet!

      Red whortleberries droop above my head,

And a large flint-stone weighs upon my feet;

      Around me beeches and high chestnuts shed

Their leaves and prickly nuts; a sheepfold bleat

      Comes from beyond the river to my bed:

Go, shed one tear upon my heather-bloom,

And it shall comfort me within the tomb.