FUNERAL FLOWERS. 163 



The pale rose, the dim azure-bell, 



And that lamenting flower, 

 With ai ! ai ! its eternal knell, 



Shall over-bloom her bower 



Her cypress bower ; whose shade beneath 



Passionless she shall lie ; 

 To rest so calm, so sweet in death, 



'Twere no great ill to die ! 



Ye four fair maids, the fairest ye, 



Be ye the flower-strewers ! 

 Ye four bright youths the bearers be, 



Ye were her fondest wooers ! 



To church ! to church ! ungallant youth, 



Carry your willing bride ! 

 So pale he looks ! 'twere well, in sooth, 



He should lie by her side ! 



The bed is laid, the toll is done, 



The ready priest doth stand ; 

 Come, let the flowers be strown, be strewn, 



Strike up ye bridal band ! 



