In a Burying Ground     This is the spot where I will lie When life has had enough of me, These are the grasses that will blow Above me like a living sea.     These gay old lilies will not shrink To draw their life from death of mine, And I will give my body's fire To make blue flowers on this vine.     "O Soul," I said, "have you no tears？ Was not the body dear to you？" I heard my soul say carelessly, "The myrtle flowers will grow more blue."

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