The Writings of Oscar Wilde/Volume 1/Requiescat

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)