Elegy

She had as many loves as she had follies. 
And all her light loves lightly sang her praises. 
But now, laid low beneath sharp-leaved sea-hollies 
And pale sea-daisies. 
Here at the limit of the hollow shore 
Folly and praise are covered meetly o'er. 

We will not tell her beads of beauty over: 
All that we say, and all we leave unsaid 
Be buried with her. There's no lightest lover 
But scatters on her bed, 
Pansies for thoughts, and woodruff white as she. 
And, for remembrance, quiet rosemary. 

Here is the end of laughter: quenched together 
Are grief and mirth; here, dancing feet fall still, 
Here, where wild thyme and sea-pinks brave wild weather 
And die at the wind's will. 
Bring her no dreams here to her quiet home 
Thou Sea, her sister! bring her weeds and foam.