Sweet as the tender fragrance that survives, When martyred flowers breathe out their little lives, Sweet as a song that once consoled our pain, But never will be sung to us again, Is thy remembrance. Now the hour of rest Hath come to thee. Sleep, darling; it is best. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FAREWELL TO NANCY by ROBERT BURNS SONGS ON THE VOICES OF BIRDS; SEA-MEWS IN WINTER TIME by JEAN INGELOW A SPINNING SONG by JOHN FRANCIS O'DONNELL THE SHADOWS by FRANK DEMPSTER SHERMAN OVERTURE TO A DANCE OF LOCOMOTIVES by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS |