II. Interlude: Songs out of Sorrow
V. 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."