The sweetest blossoms die. <br />And so it was that, going day by day <br />Unto the church to praise and pray, <br />And crossing the green churchyard thoughtfully, <br />I saw how on the graves the flowers <br />Shed their fresh leaves in showers, <br />And how their perfume rose up to the sky <br />Before it passed away. <br /> <br />The youngest blossoms die. <br />They die, and fall and nourish the rich earth <br />From which they lately had their birth; <br />Sweet life, but sweeter death that passeth by <br />And is as though it had not been:— <br />All colors turn to green: <br />The bright hues vanish, and the odours fly, <br />The grass hath lasting worth. <br /> <br />And youth and beauty die. <br />So be it, O my God, Thou God of truth: <br />Better than beauty and than youth <br />Are Saints and Angels, a glad company; <br />And Thou, O lord, our Rest and Ease, <br />Are better far than these. <br />Why should we shrink from our full harvest? why <br />Prefer to glean with Ruth?<br /><br />Christina Georgina Rossetti<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sweet-death-5/
