We have a mourning rose,
Rare, radiant, illustrious
That inconceivably blooms
When, inconspiciously, spirits go
Wonder how it knows?

Luscious leaves uplift, ever green
For Death she grooms
Pompously--our mourning queen
Tall, proud and serene
Strangely thornless, limbs bow

Never draws blood
With dew sweet kisses, she mourns
Tranquil, composed, but forlorn
A haven for the grouse
She blooms in snow

Pink like Auntie’s blouse
Rose came with this house
extemporaneously an abnormality
Which blossoms in favorite hues
Of the dead . . . Rose buds

For eternity