TREAD lightly, she is near
 Under the snow,
 Speak gently, she can hear
 The daisies grow.

 All her bright golden hair
 Tarnished with rust,
 She that was young and fair
 Fallen to dust.

 Lily-like, white as snow,
 She hardly knew
 She was a woman, so
 Sweetly she grew.

 Coffin-board, heavy stone,
 Lie on her breast,
 I vex my heart alone
 She is at rest.

 Peace, Peace, she cannot hear
 Lyre or sonnet,
 All my life's buried here,
 Heap earth upon it.

 AVIGNON.