Verse > Anthologies > Andrew Macphail, ed. > The Book of Sorrow
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Andrew Macphail, comp.  The Book of Sorrow.  1916.
 
XVI. Crossed Hands and Closed Eyes
Requiescat
By Matthew Arnold (1822–1888)
 
STREW on her roses, roses,
  And never a spray of yew!
In quiet she reposes;
  Ah! would that I did too.
 
Her mirth the world required;        5
  She bathed it in smiles of glee.
But her heart was tired, tired,
  And now they let her be.
 
Her life was turning, turning,
  In mazes of heat and sound;        10
But for peace her soul was yearning,
  And now peace laps her round.
 
Her cabin’d, ample spirit,
  It flutter’d and fail’d for breath;
To-night it doth inherit        15
  The vasty hall of death.
 
 
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