The Funeral Rites of the Rose
The Rose was sick, and smiling died;And, being to be sanctified,About the bed, there sighing stoodThe sweet and flowery sisterhood.Some hung the head, while some did bring,To wash her, water from the spring;Some laid her forth, while others wept,But all a solemn fast there kept.The holy sisters some among,The sacred dirge and trental sung;But ah! what sweets smelt everywhere,As heaven had spent all perfumes there!At last, when prayers for the dead,And rites, were all accomplished,They, weeping, spread a lawny loom,And closed her up as in a tomb.
Sign in to like, rate and collect poems, and keep track of what you've read.