Requiem

7 0 00

Requiem

White-rose perfume

Go with thee on thy way

Unto thy shaded tomb;

Low music fall

Lightly as autumn leaves

About thy solemn pall;

Faint incense rise

From many a censer swung

Above thy closed eyes;

And the sounds of them that pray

Make thy low bier an holy thing to be,

That all the beauty underneath the sun

Carries unto the clay.

Odour of musk and roses

Make sweet thy crimson lips

Whereon my soul hath gone to deep eclipse;

Poppies’ and violets’ scent

Be for thy burial lent

And every flower that sweetest smell discloses.

Upon thy breast,

Before which all my spirit hath bow’d down,

White lilies rest;

And for a crown upon thy mortal head

Be poppies red.

And for eternal peace

Be poppies strown upon thy holy eyes,

Till also these shall cease

Turning to that which man is when he dies.

And poppies on thine unassuaged mouth

Be strown, until death shall be done with thee,

Until the white worms shall be one with thee.