The Funeral Rites of the Rose

The Rose was sick and smiling died;

And, being to be sanctified,

About the bed there sighing stood

The sweet and flowery sisterhood:

Some hung the head, while some did bring,

To wash her, water from the spring;

Some laid her forth, while others wept,

But all a solemn fast there kept:

The holy sisters, some among,

The sacred dirge and trental sung.

But ah! what sweet smelt everywhere,

As Heaven had spent all perfumes there.