My flowers which I placed upon her breast, And bid her wear till we should meet again, My faithful one. The seeds matured on thy Dear bosom, nourished by thine own mortality, Pushed their way to the sunlight of earth, To Cheer and to ’mind of faithful love, Love which lasts even after the gates of Death are passed. Then he wailed the whole Day long: Come, O! come! Uranne, come! Like my flowers, leave your bed, too dark too Drear for thee. Uranne, come to me! Or I will come to thee!

There they found him, there they laid him, With his flowers and Uranne.