ONE folds the little white hands, and lays a flower between, And sees death's lilies pale, where life's sweet rose hath been, And aches through all her heart beside the baby face serene. One smiles a brave good-morrow, and walks with even tread, The while she bears the burden of a great and nameless dread; God wot,—a living grief is worse than the peace that folds the dead. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...UNGUARDED GATES by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH LINES ON OBSERVING A BLOSSOM [ON THE FIRST OF FEBRUARY 1796] by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE HE HAD HIS DREAM by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR LONDON SURVEYED AND ILLUSTRATED by JOHANNEM ADAMUS DAWN by GEORGE LAWRENCE ANDREWS EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 25. ENVY ACCOMPANIES LOVE by PHILIP AYRES LINES ON THE COTTAGE AT THE FOOT OF BOX HILL, SURREY by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |