Sweet as the tender fragrance that survives, <br />When martyred flowers breathe out their little lives, <br />Sweet as a song that once consoled our pain, <br />But never will be sung to us again, <br />Is thy remembrance. Now the hour of rest <br />Hath come to thee. Sleep, darling; it is best.<br /><br />Henry Wadsworth Longfellow<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/delia-birds-of-passage-flight-the-fifth/
