Sweet comrade, when you come some day
To gaze upon my tomb,
And scattered all around it see
Bright flowers in freshest bloom,

Think not that those are common flowers
Which at yout feet are born,
Or that the spring has brought them there
My new home to adorn.

They are my songs unsung, which used
Within my heart to hide;
They are the words of love I left
Unuttered when I died.

They are my ardent kisses, dear,
Sent from that world unknown,
The path to which before you lies
Blocked by the tomb alone!

...ok, just to tell that i'm not the author of this poem. i'm not going to write who is it. try to guess...