THE SUMMER IS ENDED
Christina G. Rossetti (1830-1894)
Wreathe no more lilies in my hair,
For I am dying, Sister sweet;
Or, if you will for one last time
Indeed, why make me fair
Once for my winding-sheet.
Pluck no more roses for my breast,
For I like them fade in my prime;
Or, if you will, why pluck them still,
That they may share my rest
Once more for the last time.
Weep not for me when I am gone,
Dear tender one, but hope and smile;
Or, if you cannot choose but weep,
A little while weep on,
Only a little while.
Mason City Globe Gazette (Mason City, Iowa) Jul 30, 1929