Requiescat

1881

Tread lightly, she is nearUnder the snow,Speak gently, she can hearThe daisies grow.

All her bright golden hairTarnished with rust,She that was young and fairFallen to dust.

Lily-like, white as snow,She hardly knewShe was a woman, soSweetly she grew.

Coffin-board, heavy stone,Lie on her breast,I vex my heart alone,She is at rest.

Peace, Peace, she cannot hearLyre or sonnet,All my life's buried here,Heap earth upon it.

Avignon.

From The Poems of Oscar Wilde, via the English Wikisource transcription.

Public domainThis poem is in the public domain. You may read it, copy it, recite it and publish it without asking anyone.