The Funeral Rites of the Rose

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 accomplished,

They, weeping, spread a lawny loom,

And closed her up as in a tomb.