 | [Poems by Piatt in] Poems of two friends |  |
19
ROSE.
I came to find her blithe and bright,
Breathing the household full of bloom,—
Wreathing the fireside with delight:
I found her—in her tomb!
Breathing the household full of bloom,—
Wreathing the fireside with delight:
I found her—in her tomb!
I came to find her gathering flowers—
Their fragrant souls so pure and clear
Haunting her face with lovelier love:
The flowers—she gathers here!
Their fragrant souls so pure and clear
Haunting her face with lovelier love:
The flowers—she gathers here!
Sweet Rose! the loving name that wore
Her love, her beauty and her bloom:
One rose, her only epitaph,
“In Memory,” on her tomb!
Her love, her beauty and her bloom:
One rose, her only epitaph,
“In Memory,” on her tomb!
| [Poems by Piatt in] Poems of two friends | |