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I dreamed that one had died in a strange place
Near no accustomed hand;
And they had nailed the boards above her face,
The peasants of that land,
Wondering to lay her in that solitude,
And raised above her mound
A cross they had made out of two bits of wood,
And planted cypress round;
And left her to the indifferent stars above
Until I carved these words:
She was more beautiful than thy first love,
But now lies under boards.

-- William Butler Yeats

An alternate version of this poem (also by Yeats) replaces the last four lines with:

'She was more beautiful than thy first love,
This lady by the trees';
And gazed upon the mournful stars above,
And heard the mournful breeze.

Which totally changes the tone, as far as I'm concerned. Interesting...

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