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.