In the bleak mid-winter

Remember me when I am gone away, Gone far away into the silent land.

My heart is like a singing bird Whose nest is in a water'd shoot; My heart is like an apple-tree Whose boughs are bent with thick-set fruit.

The birthday of my life Is come, my love is come to me.

When I am dead, my dearest, Sing no sad songs for me; Plant thou no roses at my head, Nor shady cypress tree: Be the green grass above me With showers and dewdrops wet;

Does the road wind up-hill all the way? Yes, to the very end. Will the day's journey take the whole long day? From morn to night, my friend.

Better by far you should forget and smile Than that you should remember and be sad.