Some hang above the tombs,
Some weep in empty rooms,
I, when the iris blooms,
Remember.
I, when the cyclamen
Opens her buds again,
Rejoice a moment-then
Remember.
More verses by Mary Elizabeth Coleridge
- When My Love Did What I Would Not, What I Would Not
- An Insincere Wish Addressed To A Beggar
- Street Lanterns
- We Never Said Farewell
- L'Oiseau Bleu