Here Lies Erotion by Robert Louis Stevenson

Mother and sire, to you do I commend Tiny Erotion, who must now descend, A child, among the shadows, and appear Before hell’s bandog and hell’s gondolier. Of six hoar winters she had felt the cold, But lacked six days of being six years old. Now she must come, all playful, to that place Where the great ancients sit with reverend face; Now lisping, as she used, of whence she came, Perchance she names and stumbles at my name. O’er these so fragile bones, let there be laid A plaything for a turf; and for that maid That ran so lightly footed in her mirth Upon thy breast⁠—lie lightly, mother earth!