The poem
'Twas in the grave-yard's gruesome gloom That May and I were mated; We sneaked inside and on a tomb Our love was consummated. It's quite all right, no doubt we'll wed, Our sin will go unchidden . . . Ah! sweeter than the nuptial bed Are ecstasies forbidden.
And as I held my sweetheart close, And she was softly sighing, I could not help but think of those In peace below us lying. Poor folks! No disrespect we meant, And beg you'll be forgiving; We hopes the dead will not resent The rapture of the living.
And when in death I, too, shall lie, And lost to those who love me, I wish two sweethearts roving by Will plight their troth above me. Oh do not think that I will grieve To hear the vows they're voicing, And if their love new life conceive, 'Tis I will be rejoicing.