by Oscar Wilde (for his little sister)
Read 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.
YOU ARE READING
Flock Of Amazing Poems
PoetryThis is a collection of my favorite poems, which I have collected so far. It has the biggies like Walt Whitman or Byron, but it also has some of lesser known poets who write just jaw-dropping poetry.
