box of delights
articles & essays
quotations
poetry
art
other places
my sites
my fanlistings
fannish
fanfiction recs
glossary
free hosting
hostees
downloads
personal
about
blog
bookmarks
yadda
to-do list
Tread lightly, she is near
Under the snow,
Speak gently, she can hear
The daisies grow.
All her bright golden hair
Tarnished with rust,
She that was young and fair
Fallen to dust.
Lily-like, white as snow,
She hardly knew
She was a woman, so
Sweetly she grew.
Coffin-board, heavy stone,
Lie on her breast,
I vex my heart alone
She is at rest.
Peace, Peace, she cannot hear
Lyre or sonnet,
All my life's buried here,
Heap earth upon it.
© Oscar Wilde