LAY a garland on my herse 
   Of the dismal yew; 
Maidens, willow branches bear; 
   Say, I died true. 
My love was false, but I was firm 
   From my hour of birth. 
Upon my buried body lie 
   Lightly, gentle earth!                
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
 
                    