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...TIME AND THE PERFUME RIVER by KAREN SWENSON BIANCA AMONG THE NIGHTINGALES by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING A CELEBRATION OF CHARIS: 1. HIS EXCUSE FOR LOVING by BEN JONSON A FAREWELL [TO C.E.G.] by CHARLES KINGSLEY FESTOONS OF FISHES by ALFRED FRANCIS KREYMBORG TO AMARANTHA, THAT SHE WOULD DISHEVEL HER HAIR by RICHARD LOVELACE |