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 RHINOCEROS by HILAIRE BELLOC CAMPUS SONNET: RETURN - 1917 by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET CONTRA MORTEM: THE CHILD'S BEING by HAYDEN CARRUTH CONTRA MORTEM: THE WHEEL OF BEING I by HAYDEN CARRUTH THE SACRAL DREAMS OF RAMON FERNANDEZ by JAMES GALVIN |