Robert Herrick (1591–1674)

THE ROSE was sick and smiling died;

And, being to be sanctified,

About the bed there sighing stood

The sweet and flowery sisterhood:

Some hung the head, while some did bring,

To wash her, water from the spring;

Some laid her forth, while others wept,

But all a solemn fast there kept:

The holy sisters, some among,

The sacred dirge and trental sung.

But ah! what sweets smelt everywhere,

As Heaven had spent all perfumes there.

At last, when prayers for the dead

And rites were all accomplishèd,

They, weeping, spread a lawny loom,

And closed her up as in a tomb.