They bring her flowers–red roses heavily sweet,
White pinks and Mary-lilies and a haze
Of fresh green ferns; around her head and feet
They heap more flowers than she in all her days
Possessed. She sighed once–‘Posies aren’t for me;
They cost too much.’
Yet now she sleeps in them, and cannot see
Or smell or touch.
Now in a new and ample gown she lies–
White as a daisy-bud, as soft and warm
As those she often saw with longing eyes,
Passing some bright shop window in a storm.
Then, when her flesh could feel, how harsh her wear!
Not warm nor white.
This would have pleased her once. She does not care
At all to-night.
They give her tears–affection’s frailest flowers–
And fold her close in praise and tenderness:
She does not heed. Yet in those empty hours
If there had come, to cheer her loneliness,
But one red rose in youth’s rose-loving day,
A smile, a tear,
It had been good. But now she goes her way
And does not hear.
(Mary Webb)
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Based on Topics: Youth Poems, Smiling Poems, Praise Poems, Loneliness PoemsBased on Keywords: once-, mary-lilies