SWEET, on the daisies of your English grave I lay this little wreath of Indian flowers, Fragrant for me because the scent they have Breathes of the memory of our wedded hours; For others scentless; and for you, in heaven, To pale and faded, dear dead wife! to wear, Save that they meanwhat makes all fault forgiven That he who brings them lays his heart, too, there | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONTRA MORTEM: THE STONE by HAYDEN CARRUTH A GIRL'S THOUGHTS by ISAAC ROSENBERG THE SHELL TO THE PEARL by LOUIS UNTERMEYER THE HILL WIFE: THE OFT-REPEATED DREAM by ROBERT FROST UNREALITY by MERCEDES DE ACOSTA TWENTY BLOCKS by EGMONT HEGEL ARENS THE FROGS: A 'EURIPIDEAN' CHORUS by ARISTOPHANES TO HIS WORSHIPFULL WEL-WILLER, MAISTER EDWARD LEIGH by RICHARD BARNFIELD |