XXVIII.
I’ll plant the grave of all my early joy
With seeds of mem’ry, and enrich the soil
With precious tears, and then I will employ
My heart as gard’ner, caring not for toil;
And thus the gloomy grave I will despoil
Of all its gloom, and raise bright flowers there,
To cheer me ’mid life’s wearisome turmoil;
And so when sad and overcharged with care,
To cull sweet mem’ry’s flowers I will oft repair.