When my earthly fire extinguished be,
will thou at my carved cross appear,
to speak of love, my posthumous spirit near,
and lay a flower there for me,
or wilt thou come when others long since fled,
with soft proud voice, unfaltering kind,
read a verse I left thee long behind,
and chance, a tear fall from thy lovely head,
think of love that prospered through the snow,
speak of love, not from a moistened eye,
nor sigh to murmuring winds for its reply,
for fragrant memories are unknown to woe,

no tears of pity, just a smile I pray,
life's ingenious scorn has quietly passed away.