I Dug Beneath the Cypress Shade

I dug, beneath the cypress shade,
        What well might seem an elfin's grave;
    And every pledge in earth I laid,
        That erst thy false affection gave.

    I pressed them down the sod beneath;
        I placed one mossy stone above;
    And twined the rose's fading wreath
        Around the sepulchre of love.

    Frail as thy love, the flowers were dead,
      Ere yet the evening sun was set:
  But years shall see the cypress spread,
      Immutable as my regret.