By George Sterling

From "Lilith"

O lay her gently where the lark is nesting
    And wingéd things are glad!
Tears end, and now begins the time of resting
    For her whose heart was sad.

Give roses, but a fairer bloom is taken.
    Strew lilies —she was one,
Gone in her silence to a place forsaken
    By roses and the sun.

Deep is her slumber at the last of sorrow,
    Of twilight and the rain.
Her eyes have closed forever on tomorrow
    And on tomorrow's pain.

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