To when the lark shall sing me down the crust
And plant my best, for best you gave in me
And will; no coffin carry then my dust
For yours that blooms within, in death shall be.
Then from such love would sprout a blushing rose
And pierce the soil of bones to eye my stone.
No seasoned force compel your love repose
As when our pairing winds; had sought and blown.
Complex the flower's dye that shades of red
That spectrum meet our love of first to new
And tho' I lay in mine own final bed
Into that sunset find and live that hue.

Tho' each a drop you shed by way of grief
Shall too from rose then fall; a petal'd leaf.