Strew on her roses, roses, And never a spray of yew. In quiet she reposes: Ah! would that I did too. Her mirth the world required: She bathed it in smiles of glee. But her heart was tired, tired, And now they let her be. Her life was turning, turning, In mazes of heart and sound. But for peace her soul was yearning, And now peace laps her round. Her cabined, ample Spirit, It fluttered and failed for breath. To-night it doth inherit The vasty Hall of Death. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE GOLDEN WEDDING OF STERLING AND SARAH LANIER by SIDNEY LANIER FUNERAL HYMN by LOUIS UNTERMEYER AN OLD MAN'S WINTER NIGHT by ROBERT FROST SPRING SONG by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR LOCKSLEY HALL by ALFRED TENNYSON |