A Rose from a Wreath
The pink-hued sky has fled before the night,
And comes quite clear the mournful owl’s hoot,
This dreadful day has somehow reached its end,
And I can take off this direful mourning suit.
She lies beneath a mound of yellow clay,
The raw earth covered with sods of green
To make it look like all the grass around,
Her fragile form no longer to be seen.
How could you die and leave me thus alone?
There is no joy in life without your smile,
I took a rose from the wreath upon your grave,
Your memory in this will live awhile.
Knowing you were dying, you kept my hope alive,
Your faith was sure that we would meet again,
You wrote a poem - I keep it next my heart,
Your lovely words alleviate my pain.