Oscar Wilde (1854–1900). Poems. 1881.
11. Requiescat
T
Under the snow,
Speak gently, she can hear
The daisies grow.
Tarnished with rust,
She that was young and fair
Fallen to dust.
She hardly knew
She was a woman, so
Sweetly she grew.
Lie on her breast,
I vex my heart alone
She is at rest.
Lyre or sonnet,
All my life’s buried here,
Heap earth upon it.
AVIGNON.