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 Rose Aylmer's sister-flowers should spring In whitest bloom above: The roses Landor could not bring, Far distant from his love. But now, a snake lies near her bed, The crows perch on the rail, A kite sweeps past, and overhead The unclean vultures sail.

"Ah what avails the sceptred race, Ah what the form divine! What every virtue, every grace! Rose Aylmer, all were thine. Rose Aylmer, whom these wakeful eyes May weep, but never see, A night of memories and of sighs I consecrate to thee."

Ah, why regret the gloomy hearse, The land of banishment? This is her grave: but Landor's verse Rose Aylmer's monument. Rose Aylmer, on thy namestone lies Love's rose immortally, The rose of memories and of sighs Once consecrate to thee.