Rose Aylmer's sister-flowers should spring
In whitest bloom above:
The roses Landor could not bring,
Far distant from his love.
But now, a snake lies near her bed,
The crows perch on the rail,
A kite sweeps past, and overhead
The unclean vultures sail.
"Ah what avails the sceptred race,
Ah what the form divine!
What every virtue, every grace!
Rose Aylmer, all were thine.
Rose Aylmer, whom these wakeful eyes
May weep, but never see,
A night of memories and of sighs
I consecrate to thee."
Ah, why regret the gloomy hearse,
The land of banishment?
This is her grave: but Landor's verse
Rose Aylmer's monument.
Rose Aylmer, on thy namestone lies
Love's rose immortally,
The rose of memories and of sighs
Once consecrate to thee.
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