By Oscar Wilde
Date: 26 January 1998

Requiescat

   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                                  10
   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.                              20

   AVIGNON.