Poetry Archives

  On that day
I shall put roses on roses, and cover your grave
With multitude of white roses: and since you were brave
  One bright red ray.

  So people, passing under
The ash-trees of the valley-road, will raise
Their eyes and look at the grave on the hill, in wonder,
  Wondering mount, and put the flowers asunder

  To see whose praise
Is blazoned here so white and so bloodily red.
Then they will say: “’Tis long since she is dead,
  Who has remembered her after many days?”

  And standing there
They will consider how you went your ways
Unnoticed among them, a still queen lost in the maze
  Of this earthly affair.

  A queen, they’ll say,
Has slept unnoticed on a forgotten hill.
Sleeps on unknown, unnoticed there, until
  Dawns my insurgent day.