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"Build me my tomb," the Raven said,

"Within the dark yew-tree,

So in the Autumn yewberries

Sad lamps may burn for me.

Summon the haunted beetle,

From twilight bud and bloom,

To drone a gloomy dirge for me

At dusk above my tomb.

Beseech ye too the glowworm

To rear her cloudy flame,

Where the small, flickering bats resort,

Whistling in tears my name.

Let the round dew a whisper make,

Welling on twig and thorn;

And only the grey cock at night

Call through his silver horn.

And you, dear sisters, don your black

For ever and a day,

To show how true a raven

In his tomb is laid away."

Walter de la Mare (1873-1956)