When this heart is cold and still,
And can throb for thee no more;
When it wakes not to the thrill
Of the harp's wild chord;
Nor can e'en afford
A sigh to the days of yore;
Then come to my silent tomb,
Which the breeze will murmur over:
Where reigns the deepest gloom—
Where the bat flits by
And the ravens cry—
Thou shalt the spot discover.
Louisa Stuart Costello
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lines-when-this-heart-is-cold-and-still/
