Castara's Flitting
Bring roses for Castara's breast —
Nay, no more roses bring.
Let be the rose where she blooms best
Castara's followed Spring.
I know a path with poppies red,
Milk-white with blossomed May,
Linden and birch meet overhead:
And that's Castara's way.
O well befall thee, happy way —
Fair fall thy poppies red!
Be thy skies blue though ours are gray
And all our roses dead.
For, O our poppies all are white —
And life's a weary thing,
Since, taking from our eyes the light,
Castara's followed Spring.