Immortal Flowers

Of old, a man who died Had, in his pride, Woman and steed and slave Heaped at his grave; Given this sudden end Their souls to send, Still serving, witherward Their lord had fared. Grown wiser, we, to-day, A happier way Find for our love and grief And death’s relief: Flowers their fragrance strew Where he must go, Gladden the narrow gate Whereat we wait. And there be those of us Who! amorous Of life and hope, can see How gleefully He, lonely, greets beyond These flowers so fond, Even as our common doom Saddens their bloom.

Collection: 
English
Wallace Rice

More from Poet

  • Immortal Flowers

    Of old, a man who died Had, in his pride, Woman and steed and slave Heaped at his grave; Given this sudden end Their souls to send, Still serving, witherward Their lord had fared. Grown wiser, we, to-day, A happier way Find for our love and grief And death’s relief: Flowers their fragrance strew...

  • The End

    No freeman, saith the wise, thinks much on death: No man with soul he dareth call his own Liveth in dread lest there be no atone In time to come for yesterday’s warm breath, No more than he for such and hungereth As falls to those who speed their souls a-groan; Death may be King, to sit a...

  • Under the Stars

    Tell me what sail the seas Under the stars? Ships, and ships’ companies, Off to the wars. Steel are the ship’s great sides, Steel are her guns, Backward she thrusts the tides, Swiftly she runs; Steel is the sailor’s heart, Stalwart his arm, His the Republic’s part Through cloud and...