I will repudiate the lie
Men tell of life;
How it will pass
As fragile flower or butterfly.
Whose dust shall nourish
April grass.

Since One, for love, died on a tree
And in the stony
Tomb was laid,
Behold I show a mystery:
All sepulchers
Are sealed in vain!

I will repudiate the lie
Men tell of life;
How it will pass
As fragile flower or butterfly.
Whose dust shall nourish
April grass.

Since One, for love, died on a tree
And in the stony
Tomb was laid,
Behold I show a mystery:
All sepulchers
Are sealed in vain!