NARCISSI
And now his quiet and frozen flowers are gleaming
Where he was, who lies quiet enough in death.
The actor, singer, each leaves living flowers.
Within the minds and on the lips of men,
Which now we own, and when no longer ours
In other minds and lips will bloom again,
Blossoms on whose live beauty all men look.—
"A foolish tale," they said, and closed the book.
Where he was, who lies quiet enough in death.
The actor, singer, each leaves living flowers.
Within the minds and on the lips of men,
Which now we own, and when no longer ours
In other minds and lips will bloom again,
Blossoms on whose live beauty all men look.—
"A foolish tale," they said, and closed the book.
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