Christina Georgina Rossetti (1830–1894)

May 14

YOUNG girls wear flowers,

Young brides a flowery wreath,

But next we plant them

In garden plots of death.

Whose lot is best:

The maiden’s curtained rest,

Or bride’s whose hoped-for sweet

May yet outstrip her feet?

Ah! what are such as these

To death’s sufficing ease?

He sleeps indeed who sleeps in peace

Where night and morning meet.

Dear are the blossoms

For bride’s or maiden’s head,

But dearer planted

Around our blessed dead.

Those mind us of decay

And joys that fade away,

These preach to us perfection,

Long love, and resurrection.

We make our graveyards fair

For spirit-like birds of air,

For Angels may be finding there

Lost Eden’s own delection.