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
White Roses
By Ernest Rhys (1859–1946)
 
NO sleep like hers, no rest,
  In all the earth to-night:
Upon her whiter breast
  Our roses lie so light.
 
She had no sins to lose,        5
  As some might say;
But calmly keeps her pale repose
  Till God’s good day.
 
 
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