Requiescat by Michael Upward

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Poem by Oscar Wilde

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. 

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