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 READING WHITMAN IN A TOILET STALL by TIMOTHY LIU DOMESDAY BOOK: GEORGE JOSLIN ON LA MENKEN by EDGAR LEE MASTERS TO A PRIZE BIRD by MARIANNE MOORE LINES ON LEAVING THE BEDFORD STR. SCHOOL HOUSE by GEORGE SANTAYANA |