|
TREAD lightly, she is near Under the snow, Speak gently, she can hear The daisies grow. |
|
 |
All her bright golden hair Tarnished with rust, She that was young and fair Fallen to dust. |
|
Lily-like, white as snow, She hardly knew She was a woman, so Sweetly she grew. |
|
 |
Coffin-board, heavy stone, Lie on her breast, I vex my heart alone She is at rest. |
|
Peace, Peace, she cannot hear Lyre or sonnet, All my life's buried here, Heap earth upon it. |
|
 |
Oscar Wilde |