I lowered it into the square of ground
And mourners in midnight gathered around
they glanced in discomfort, shedding dry tears
A few of them whispered "but what's buried here?"
"What's buried," I said, "was not meant to live
but what a bright sunishine it was while it did!
I worked, and I cherished it--still, it would seem
my love couldn't save it, friends--it was a Dream"